


Westminster Care Home For Troubled Children

by DemandMeNothing



Category: MorMor - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Jim Moriarty - Freeform, Kid!Lock, M/M, Other, Sherlock - Freeform, mormor, sebastian moran - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 108
Words: 346,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemandMeNothing/pseuds/DemandMeNothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty is a troubled child. At only eight years old he's been moved from Dublin to a London care home for difficult youngsters, having attempted to kill his parents and baby sister in a house fire. His roommate is ten year old Sebastian Moran, a painfully shy but incredibly violent little boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

‘Westminster Care Home For Troubled Children’ the sign read. Jim scowled at it and then spat on the floor, just in case anyone was watching him. The eight year old had been moved from Dublin because he had tried to set fire to his house deliberately in an attempt to kill his parents and baby sister. If only it had worked, he mused regretfully, that way he would never have to see any of them again. He imagined they’d try to send him letters now, about how they loved him and missed him and worst of all forgave him. Well he didn’t want to be forgiven. If he’d had his way they would have all burned to death, trapped in their tiny little house all piled up with clutter, without enough windows to escape from. 

There were footsteps behind him and his old care worker patted him on the shoulder. Jim hissed at that and pulled away. He didn’t like people pretending they were friends with him when they weren’t. Darren, a man in his late twenties who Jim could tell was recently divorced, had been charged to look after Jim’s case until they could find him a placement. And now they had. In London town. Miles and miles away from his old place, in an entirely different country. 

“We’re going to have a little meeting in the office,” he told Jim cheerfully, in a simpering voice meant for stupid idiot children. Jim might have been eight, but he had a brain far beyond his years. 

They both trooped into a small room at the end of the corridor and on the left. There was a woman sitting in there behind a desk, giving Jim a tired smile that didn’t meet her green eyes. She had lines on her face even though she didn’t seem particularly old, and there were dark smudges under her eyes too, shadows. 

Jim didn’t smile back and chose the chair nearest the door because it looked comfier. Darren chuckled at that as though it was some private jest between them. Jim instantly wished he had a gun so he could kill stupid Darren Mcgrath and be rid of him forever. 

The woman sat up slightly and gave Darren a smile before turning her attention to Jim. She peered at him with the weary, disinterested eyes of someone who was horrendously stressed and overworked. “Nice to meet you, James,” she said in a friendly voice. “This is just a quick meeting so we can talk about a couple of things with you. You’re a clever boy, and we thought you ought to know what’s going on.”

Jim glared at her. That flattery was her trying to make him be good. Well he wasn’t going to be good and he wasn’t going to be nice. 

“Here at Westminster Home, we want you to feel safe and secure and most of all, happy. I understand you weren’t very happy back in Dublin?”

“Is this going to take long?” Jim demanded pompously, looking up at the clock on the wall and then back at her. Darren laughed his deep rumbling laugh and Jim’s head shot to his left to silence him with a scowl. 

“Not particularly,” the woman fired back with a weary smile. It was forced. Jim could tell she was fed up of him already. “My name is Verity,” she continued. “I’m the head care worker here. I’m in charge of most things and it’s my job to make sure you’re okay. You can always come to me with any problems you might have, although I have a strict rule about knocking before entering because I am often in meetings.”

“Do I get my own room?” Jim demanded, voicing one of his biggest concerns. In the car ride from the airport he had dreaded being stuck with a room full of other children, all noisy and smelly and stupid. 

“Ah, let me just…” Verity said, checking a sheet of paper in front of her. “No, you’ll be sharing with another boy. Sebastian, his name is.”

Jim let out a long whine of fury and disappointment and then kicked the desk in front of him before curling up into a ball on his comfy chair. He thought that maybe if he sulked hard enough they’d change their minds. Darren moved his arm to awkwardly pat Jim on the shoulder, but he shrugged it off hurriedly. 

“No-one has their own room here, I’m afraid. We exist on government funding and so we can’t afford it. If we had the money I’d gladly give you your own room, but it simply isn’t possible,” Verity explained, her voice sounding sterner now. She’d seen enough little boys having tantrums to know not to pander to it. 

When he realised no one was taking any notice of him Jim raised his head and blinked mutinously at the head care worker. She was another person he was adding to his list. Darren would take precedence though, because he was more annoying. 

The meeting went on for another ten minutes or so. Jim barely listened to what was being said. It was all obvious anyway, stupid things he could have easily figured out for himself. When it was over he hopped off his chair and left the room without even saying thank you to Verity. She didn’t matter to him so he wouldn’t waste his breath conversing with her. Darren lumbered out after him, rucksack slung over his shoulder. It contained all of Jim’s clothes and belongings. He hadn’t brought much with him since his parents had been poor and he didn’t have any nice toys. There were a few books though which he treasured, and some photographs of his family his mother had insisted he take with him. Well they were going straight in the bin as soon as he was allowed his things again. 

Another adult, a gangly ginger man with a shiny nose and too many freckles, who introduced himself as Frank, told him and Darren that he was going to give them a quick tour. There were hardly any other children around since they were at school, and the ones that got home schooled were in the computer room. The building was just as Jim had expected, the walls painted cheerful colours to try and trick the inhabitants into feeling happy. It had an odd smell to it, like cakes from the kitchen, but also the smell of too many people, something rubbery. Like a school.

They went through the dining room, the living room, the measly excuse for a playroom, the cooler, the kitchen, the offices, the quiet space, the telly room, and then looked out into the garden which was reassuringly large. Jim’s darting black eyes went everywhere, assessing the environment and seeking all the best hiding places. He liked being on his own, not around other children. He wouldn’t sit in the living room with everyone else. 

As they climbed the stairs Frank continued chatting amiably to Darren and led them to Jim’s bedroom. It was right at the end of the hall, close to a bathroom, and the paint on the door was peeling. There were a few stickers on it, mostly army ones like badges. It wasn’t as bad as Jim had anticipated, and was certainly better than other rooms they had passed with awful pink hearts and keep out signs. 

“Here we are, James,” Frank said in the same cheerful tone Verity had used. Jim decided not to tell people his name wasn’t ‘James’, at least, he didn’t want it to be. It was too much effort and he might get trapped in a conversation. He hated adults, all adults, because they thought they knew better than him and tried to tell him what to do. He would never be their friend in a million years. 

Frank pushed open the door and led Jim into the room. It was fairly small but much bigger than his room back in Dublin. It was clean, which was a blessing, because Jim couldn’t stand germs or dirt, and the walls were dark blue and light grey. There were a couple of certificates stuck neatly on the wall and toy soldiers on a shelf. There were bunk beds, which secretly quite excited Jim, and it looked like the top one was for him.

“Which one is mine?” he asked, trying to hide his enthusiasm. Frank smiled to himself which showed he could tell despite Jim’s efforts to seem disinterested. 

“The top one,” he revealed with a grin. “You’re a lucky boy, Jim. Sebastian likes to be closer to the ground. The certificates belong to him. He even cleared a shelf for you if you wanted to put things there.”

Jim nodded his head, unwilling to say how thrilled he was. He’d wanted to have a bunk bed all his life and now he had one. 

“Right then, I’m going to leave you,” Darren told Jim gently, as though Jim might actually care. “I’ll be staying in the hotel down the street. I’ve written my number down and given it to Verity, okay? If you have any problems then give me a ring. Or talk to Frank.” Both men laughed at that but Jim didn’t understand why. 

“Did you want to stay up here or go back downstairs?” Frank asked. Jim almost rolled his eyes but stopped himself at the last minute. 

“I’ll stay,” Jim mumbled, feigning disinterest. The two men smiled at him and then left the room. 

As soon as they were gone Jim rushed to climb up the wooden ladder, flopping down on his new bed with a delighted sigh. He had the best bed. He’d never had the best anything before. It had always been his baby sister who got nice toys and things. He was expected to make do with what he had. 

He rolled onto his side and then peered over the wooden side of the bed that would keep him from falling off in the night. The certificates were all for Sebastian Moran. They were mostly from the Scouts, and some were for swimming. Jim wondered what his roommate would be like. Probably tough and athletic. He was neat and tidy which was a good thing. There was a postcard with Jesus Christ on it which was stuck near the desk. Jim scowled at it. His family were Catholics and he didn’t want his roommate to be a religious nut as well. There was no ‘keep out’ sign on his door, which meant he was tough enough for the other children to know not to disturb him. That or he was a weirdo who no- one wanted to see anyway.

In not much time at all there was a knock on the door and then Verity appeared in the room, holding a coffee cup, looking pleased at the way he was draped on his bed. He certainly looked more relaxed than he had done in her study. 

“The other children will be home soon,” she told him, moving to open the window slightly because it was a bit stuffy. “How about you come downstairs and have a snack before they get here?”

Jim was reluctant to leave his room, but at the same time he wanted to see what they had to offer him so he merely nodded his head and climbed down the wooden ladder. Verity was trying to be nice to him so he’d behave, but he was far too clever to fall for that. He remained distant and cold as they headed down the stairs and to the kitchen. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

It was Dawn’s turn to do the school pick up today and so Sebastian was outside on the playground as quickly as possible, waiting patiently to be taken home. He was clutching a piece of paper in his hand, making sure it didn’t fly away in the wind. He’d earned it fair and square and today he wanted to show Dawn. 

The slightly plump blonde young woman turned up right on time, all smiles and bright eyes. Sebastian had been taken into care at a young age when Dawn too had just been starting out. He liked to think they were friends. He reckoned Dawn thought so too. 

“How was your day?” she asked him as they went to stand together, waiting for Toby and Graham to arrive. They were friends and always turned up late together. 

Sebastian shuffled a bit and then held out the paper for Dawn’s inspection, eyes on the ground. He always got embarrassed when the attention was on him, even with Dawn. Probably because he liked to impress her. 

Dawn carefully unfurled the piece of paper, read it, and then smiled broadly. It was Sebastian’s usual weekly report, but today in the comments section it read: ‘Sebastian has been brilliantly well behaved this week. Apart from the little wobble on Tuesday, which I have spoken to him about, he has really impressed me. He earned two team points and got top marks on his spelling test. Good work Sebastian!’

“Am I allowed to show Verity and Frank this?” Dawn asked respectfully, still smiling down at the blond ten year old beside her. 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed, blushing crimson as he always did when praised. 

“And I’ll tell you what,” Dawn said, giving him a tiny pat on the shoulder which made the tips of his ears go pink. “I’ll see if I can get you your telly privileges back. There’s a rugby match on tomorrow, isn’t there? I think you definitely deserve to be allowed to see it, even if it is on late.” 

Toby and Graham arrived, chattering together about something that had happened in their class. Sebastian was stuck in the year below where he should be because his life was so disrupted, even though he was very clever for his age, and Toby and Graham were both two years above him. Sebastian didn’t like Toby much, but he thought Graham was all right if you got him on his own. 

They got into the minibus and went to collect Chloe and Pippa. They both went to different schools and Pippa was in a wheelchair. Sebastian, who was feeling noble today, even helped Dawn with the chair. Along with his good report, he was getting his new roommate tonight. Sebastian was nervous and excited about it. Although he was very violent for his age, and prone to anger, he was quiet and thoughtful and liked his own space. The last boy he’d had to share with was okay, but he didn’t particularly like him. He’d had Asperger’s and was obsessed with dinosaurs, which got tiresome when it was all he talked about. Seb tended to just let him get on with it. 

After picking up Sally and Derek, they all headed home, Dawn playing the radio, something that Frank and Verity never did. They worried about swearing and negative messages for children and things like that. Dawn was by far the nicest of them all, probably because she was so young. She’d had a disabled little brother who died. Dawn had told Sebastian once when he was in the cooler, upset because he’d had his allowance taken away from him for punching Toby. Dawn trusted Sebastian with things like that and in return Sebastian had decided to trust Dawn. 

When they got home, Sebastian pushing Pippa carefully and taking her into the kitchen so she could get a snack, there was the sound of screaming coming from the cooler. They all looked at each other, wondering who it was. The only ones who really got that cross were Sebastian, who was there and growled instead of screamed, Chloe, who was tucking into a chocolate biscuit at the kitchen table, and Bradley, who didn’t really scream either. He just threw things and cried. 

“Let me go and check it out,” Dawn said to the kids, leaving them and heading for the cooler. She returned quickly with a sad smile on her face. “It’s alright. It’s the new little boy.”

Toby laughed and called him a baby, but Dawn turned stern. “Toby, we’re not unkind in this house. Don’t you remember your first day here?”

Toby, who did remember very well and didn’t want the others jumping on the way he’d cried and wet the bed, nodded his head and didn’t say anything else. 

Sebastian chewed nervously on his lower lip and picked up a chocolate biscuit, wondering what his roommate was like. He hoped he wouldn’t scream like that all night, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sleep. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

It had all started because stupid old Verity wouldn’t let him have two chocolate biscuits. All the other children had one each, she had told him, all stern and annoying. Jim had reminded her that he was new and deserved two, at which she’d just laughed. Jim hated being laughed at. It made him so angry he wanted to kill people. He was cleverer than Verity and yet she was laughing at him. He was better than her and yet she was laughing. She wouldn’t stop. 

So Jim smiled sweetly at her, pushed over a kitchen chair, and then ran screaming out of the room, ripping posters off the walls as he went. He kept on going even when Frank tried to talk him out of it. He just got louder when he was warned by Verity about the cooler. He opened his lungs and screeched when he was told that they understood and that they only wanted him to be happy here. When they realised he wasn’t going to listen, Frank carried him off to the cooler and left him there to ‘calm down’. 

He still didn’t stop, well not for long. When no one was outside he stopped just so he could breathe because his throat hurt. He kicked all the pillows in there and chewed up all the little pieces of paper where you were supposed to write down why you were so upset and then put it in a little box. He jammed the box shut with the chewed up papers and then picked up a crayon and scrawled ‘I hate you’ on the walls over and over, covering everywhere he was tall enough to reach. 

There was a camera on the ceiling so he couldn’t do anything really bad to himself. He did plan on suffocating himself by swallowing paper, but they’d see him and stop him and it would hurt. 

After thirty solid minutes he decided to try another tack. He barricaded the door with cushions and then lay down in front of it, so they couldn’t open it again without hurting him. He was going to stay here until they apologized to him and gave him the chocolate biscuits he deserved. How dare they say no to him.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM  


Dawn was looking after the children for the afternoon instead of Frank, something no-one really minded. Apparently Frank was busy with the new boy, trying to settle him in. He’d stopped yelling now, which made for a more peaceful house, but Sebastian still worried about his roommate. What if he was crazy? Sebastian quietly voiced his concerns to Dawn who merely smiled mildly and told him to ‘cheer up, soldier, it’ll all work itself out eventually, just you wait and see’. That did make Seb feel a bit better, but it didn’t get rid of all his worries. 

Toby and Graham were hogging the table tennis set in the playroom and the girls were all watching something in the telly room. Sebastian remained with Dawn for most of the afternoon, helping her clear up the house. Sebastian wasn’t big on talking but Dawn understood that. She talked about her troubles with her mum and about her favourite memories. Seb listened eagerly, not because the stories were particularly interesting, but because Dawn was an adult who trusted him. It was nice to be trusted, he thought. Verity didn’t trust him. She always glanced at him with mild concern even though she thought she was trying to be friendly. Frank had had to manhandle him into the cooler too many times for him to truly take a liking to Sebastian. Even though Dawn had often experienced Sebastian’s temper, she never held it against him. As long as he apologised to the people he had upset then she forgave him. After all, her little brother had broken tons of things because he got so cross. Although it must have been sad for him, Seb thought, being stuck in a wheelchair all the time. 

At half past five, Dawn went into the kitchen to get the dinner ready. Tonight was sausage and mash because it was Friday. Everyone liked sausage and mash, and on Fridays they all had chocolate pudding for dessert as a well done for their hard work at school. Sebastian was asked to go and tell all the others to set the table and get settled because it would be ready in ten minutes, so he obediently went. 

Viv and Carly were upstairs in Viv’s room. They were teenagers, almost adults, but they were very childish in Sebastian’s opinion. He knocked politely and then called through the door to tell them. Carly told him ‘thank you’, but as he walked away he could hear them giggling together. He told himself that it wasn’t about him, but it was still very difficult. Sebastian suffered from mild paranoia, although he was working with his councilor to beat it. Harry was doing his homework in the computer room, so Sebastian told him next. Then Toby and Graham, and then the girls in the telly room. They groaned a bit because they didn’t want to miss their show, but there were strict rules about eating in the dining room. Verity thought it might make the house messy if they were allowed to eat in other rooms as well, and everyone knew that Verity wasn’t to be argued with. 

By the time the table was laid Dawn and Frank had swapped places. Apparently the little boy in the cooler was being a bit difficult and he wouldn’t respond to Frank. Sebastian thought Frank was okay, although he resented him slightly. Frank was the only man who worked at the home and so he tried to chat with Sebastian about ‘manly’ things. Seb hated having to talk to people. He wanted to talk about things with Dawn, but apparently that wasn’t allowed because she was a girl. 

When Sebastian went to the kitchen to offer to help carry the things in, Frank gave him an odd smile and asked him if he would go to the cooler and see Dawn. Sebastian gave the food a longing look, but Frank chuckled and told him they’d save his for him and keep it nice and warm. Seb nodded his head and did as he was told.

Dawn met him in the hallway and placed a finger to her lips to tell him to be quiet. Sebastian nodded. “Seb, I’ve got a favour to ask you,” she told him gently, glancing back at the door to the cooler. “Now you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, honestly, I won’t mind at all if you say no. Let me explain…”

It was about the new boy, as Sebastian had expected. He wouldn’t stop screaming and crying and being rude, nor would he eat. Dawn thought it might be an idea for Seb to talk to him, seeing as they were fairly close in age and James was going to be Sebastian’s roommate. Sebastian was doubtful, after all, what could he do? But he nodded his head and agreed, wanting to help Dawn out if he could. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Hello James, it’s Dawn again.”

Jim sniffed and scowled. “Go away. I hate you!”

“I’ve brought someone to see you.”

“If it’s another grownup then tell them to go away!”

“It’s not another grownup. It’s someone I think you’ll be interested to meet.”

Jim went quiet as he mulled it over. He had an idea of who this mystery person was, but he couldn’t be completely sure, after all, this was a new place. There must be tons of children around. And Dawn could be tricking him. It might be Frank again. 

“Are you lying to me?” he demanded, raising a suspicious eyebrow. 

“No.”

Jim couldn’t be certain but he thought Dawn was probably telling the truth. She didn’t seem like a liar like the other two adults. 

“Well,” he decided eventually. “Okay then. But if I don’t like them I’ll scream.”

Dawn gave Sebastian a hopeful nudge and the door was opened ever so slightly from within. Sebastian moved towards it and then shuffled in, the door closing sharply behind him, leaving Dawn waiting nervously outside, trying to listen in as much as she could. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

A small, large eyed boy was staring at him. His eyes were dark and his skin was very pale. Tears stuck to his eyelashes and the skin around his eyes was red and puffy. The boy began to circle him, expression suspicious and unfriendly. 

“Who are you?” Jim demanded with a pout as soon as he was back in front of Sebastian again. 

"‘m Seb,” Sebastian grunted, not at all sure what to do. It was almost amusing how hostile this tiny boy was. He was just a baby. Poor little kid must have had a tough time of it. 

“Seb’s not a real name,” Jim informed him. “Your real name must be Sebastian.”

“It is,” Seb agreed amiably. 

“Why are you here?”

“I dunno.”

“Are they using you as a spy?”

“Er…no?”

“If you’re mean to me then I’ll scream.”

Sebastian thought of that awful shrill noise they had heard earlier.

“I’m not gonna be mean to you.”

“Hm…” 

Jim narrowed his eyes, subjecting Sebastian to intense scrutiny, and then ordered him to barricade the door again, using the cushions on the floor. Seb looked uncertain but did as he was told. The cushions wouldn’t really stop anyone from getting in or out. When he was finished his work, a nice wall of coloured cushions in front of the door, he turned to the boy and waited for his verdict. 

“I’m Jim,” he said sulkily. Apparently he was pleased with his work then. At least that was what Seb thought.

“I know,” Seb told him, trying to keep his voice even. Sebastian knew the name of his new roommate was James Moriarty and he was eight years old and from Ireland. He’d been told all that by Verity last week. Jim was short for James, he supposed. Like Jamie was. 

“Why don’t you talk back properly?” Jim fired at the blond boy. Venom clear in his tone, body language defensive but extremely confident. 

“I do.”

“You did it again. ‘I do.’ That’s only two words.” Jim shoved two pale fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. “Two!”

Sebastian narrowed his blue eyes and remembered his task. He had to get Jim to calm down and eat something. “You having dinner?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m on hunger strike.”

“Why?”

“Because they can’t make me do anything.” He raised his voice so Dawn would hear him through the door. “Anything!”

“It’s sausage and mash,” Sebastian volunteered, thinking wistfully of his plate of food and wishing he was sitting in the dining room tucking in to his favourite meal. 

Jim rolled his eyes and moved closer to Seb. “Why would that matter?”

“I dunno.”

“Two words!” Jim repeated, now moving in to Sebastian’s personal space. Sebastian blinked awkwardly down at the kid, who was staring at him with deep suspicion and fury. 

Sebastian stepped back because he didn’t like being stared at. He gestured at the door. “You coming or what?”

Jim looked furious and then crossed his arms with a pout. He flopped down on the floor and crossed his legs as well. “I’m not going with you. You can’t make me.”

“Alright.”

The Irish little boy’s eyes widened. “What? You’re not going to try and make me?”

“No.”  


Jim made a noise like a strangled cat and then lay down on the ground. “Now you’re only using one word!”

“I’m hungry,” Sebastian protested, looking down at the boy with mild concern. His stomach rumbled loudly and he rubbed it reassuringly. He’d done all he could now. It was time for sausages. 

“That’s two words!” Jim squealed, writhing about dramatically for Sebastian’s sake. 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and tried his best not to smirk. He recognised the theatrics and they weren’t going to work on him. Chloe did the same when she was annoyed, and all the children ignored her until she snapped out of it. 

“You’re mental,” Sebastian declared dismissively. 

It was supposed to have been an insult but Jim rolled onto his stomach, beamed up at Sebastian, and let out the weirdest giggle Seb had ever heard. It was high pitched and mischievous and melodical. 

“Does it scare you?” he asked happily, brown eyes shining with glee. 

“As if.”

“They all think I’m mad,” Jim informed him. “That’s what they all say behind my back.”

“And are you?” Seb asked curiously. 

Jim sighed and pondered the question, placing his elbows on the ground and then supporting his chin with his interlocked hands. 

“I think I am a bit.”

Sebastian shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot. He wasn’t used to someone being so blunt with him. Jim must trust him, he thought, to tell him something so private. “Yeah, well, they say I’ve got anger issues,” Sebastian revealed gruffly. 

“What do you mean ‘anger issues’?” Jim asked curiously. 

“I hit stuff when I’m angry,” Seb said simply. 

Jim nodded. “Would you hit me?”

“I dunno,” Seb answered honestly. “I’m not angry right now.”

“What if I made you angry?” Jim asked, tilting his head to one side and surveying Sebastian. 

“Nah, you couldn’t.”

“Sebby Webby,” Jim tried in a mocking tone. 

Sebastian shook his head. “No, it’s not-“

“Sebbykins!” he continued with determination. “Sebastian, who never speaks! And when he does it’s only in two words!”

“Hey, wait a-“

“With pretty blue eyes and blond hair-“

“Oi! Shut up!”

Jim got to his feet, giggling, and began to circle Sebastian. 

“Poor wittle Sebbykins whose family are dead or don’t want him! With the prettiest blue eyes in the world and blond hair! But he can only say two words! Or one word. Because he’s stupid!...”

Sebastian was irritated more than anything. To get him into a real rage was difficult, and Jim hadn’t got anywhere near managing it. Still, it was frustrating, and Sebastian was starving. He didn’t want all the other kids to eat all the chocolate pudding. But at the same time it was amusing. Jim was so small and stroppy that it was hard to believe he had so much to say for himself. Only eight years old, Sebastian reminded himself, starting to smile. Only a baby and this volatile. It was almost cute. 

“You’re not angry,” Jim declared, slumping slightly and pouting. He hated failing at something. 

“No,” Sebastian agreed.

“You’re smiling!” 

Seb said nothing, not wanting to further enrage him. 

“You’re laughing at me,” Jim commented. His expression suddenly changed. It seemed to crumple and his cheeks went bright red. 

“I’m not,” Seb assured him quickly. 

“I’ll scream,” he warned, chocolatey brown eyes welling up. 

“Why would you do that?”

“I don’t like people laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

Jim hurtled towards Seb, stopping mere centimetres away from him. 

“Do you promise?” he demanded, suddenly fierce and afraid. 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed. 

“Say it!” Jim squealed, his brown eyes almost impossibly wide now. 

“I promise,” Seb told him calmly, swallowing with nerves. He didn’t want the child to start crying again. “Honestly. I promise.” 

Jim nibbled on his lower lip and a single tear fell, trickling down his pale face. 

Sebastian sighed and then reached out to hold his shoulders in an attempt at comforting him. “Jim, I promise. I’m not laughing at you. I swear. I promise. Okay?”

The little Irish boy nodded his head and stared at Sebastian as though he were an alien. No-one had ever done that before. It made him feel just a tiny bit better. He pulled himself together and then forced a smile, stepping back, away from Sebastian’s touch. 

“We’re eating in here.”

Seb raised an eyebrow. “We’re not allowed to-“

“Dawn!” Jim screamed, ignoring Sebastian. “Dawn!”

The door opened tentatively and Dawn poked her face into the room, smiling nervously. 

“We’re going to eat our dinner in here,” he informed her easily. “Both of us. It’s sausage and mash, isn’t it? And chocolate pudding. Verity told me earlier. And Seb deserves extra sausages because he’s stopped me from screaming.”

Dawn looked utterly confused, but thrilled as well. She gave Seb a small smile of praise and Seb looked down at the ground, blushing to the tips of his ears. 

“Just for today then,” she agreed. “But tomorrow you have to eat in the dining room with everyone else, Jim.”

Jim scowled but didn’t protest. He grabbed hold of Sebastian’s hand and dragged him to one of the bean bags in there, pushing him down and then sitting on the one right beside him, waiting for his dinner to arrive. 

“Can you not manhandle me?” Sebastian asked wearily, not liking being pushed about, but not really minding it so much from Jim. He wasn’t threatening like his father had been, or like Frank. 

“Well, you’re a massive lump. You need to be hurried up. Now silence, because we’re going to have dinner. And remember I got you extra sausages as a reward?”

Sebastian sighed and nodded his head in defeat. “Yeah, I s’pose you did."


	2. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim’s first night at Westminster Home isn’t as easy as he’d planned. Sebastian begins to get to grips with his mischievous new roommate.

The first night was difficult for everyone. Jim didn’t want to brush his teeth that particular evening and ran about on the upstairs landing trying to evade capture by Frank. He was eventually pulled out of the laundry cupboard and accompanied to the bathroom, even though he cried a lot and threatened to flush Frank down the toilet. 

Sebastian got in trouble for loitering because he waited loyally outside the bathroom for Jim, just to make sure he was okay. Frank told him he was only going to make Jim worse because he’d play up to the audience. Sebastian kicked the bathroom door and then shuffled off to his bedroom to wait for Jim. He was only trying to be helpful in case they needed his help with Jim again. He was trying to act grownup and responsible. Dawn would have understood, but stupid Frank just assumed, as he always did, that he was making trouble. It wasn’t fair, Sebastian thought. He’d been good for the whole week and now Frank and Verity seeing his report card was spoilt. 

Jim rushed in to the bedroom ahead of Frank, not liking being chaperoned. He was a big boy, he said, and Frank was a stupid lanky idiot who deserved to fall down the stairs. Sebastian’s lips twitched into a tiny crooked smile at that from where he was sitting up in bed, knees drawn up to his chest. 

The eight year old scampered past him in blue pyjamas, attempting to scramble up the ladder before Frank could ‘help’ him. Sebastian watched his pale feet make the climb with interest and mild concern. He didn’t want him to fall, but at the same time he wanted him to win against Frank. Hearing Frank on his way down the hall to them, carrying Jim’s night things which he’d left in the bathroom, Sebastian got out of bed and gave Jim a leg up. 

“You see!” Jim cried triumphantly as Frank entered the room. “I could do it myself you moron! I’m not a baby!”

Sebastian chuckled from the bottom bunk and received a weary look from Frank. Seb didn’t care about that though. Jim was right. Frank was a moron. 

“Bathroom’s free for you, Sebastian,” Frank said evenly, placing Jim’s bag of toiletries on the side for him. Seb grunted at him and got up, grabbing his own toothbrush from the side and heading to the bathroom before one of the others took his turn. 

Frank remained in the room with Jim, something that made the Irish boy scowl. “Now, if you have any problems or need anything, I sleep in the bedroom at the other end of the hall,” he told him in a condescending voice. “The main light goes out at nine, but Sebastian is allowed his lamp on until half past because he’s older, alright?”

“Yes, stupid-pants,” Jim said in a sing song voice. Frank said goodnight and then left the room. Jim snuggled up under his duvet with a happy sigh. It was warm and cozy, not like in Dublin where the wind whistled everywhere and older boys and girls shouted and kicked beer cans around outside.  


Sebastian returned to the bedroom in an oversized Star Wars t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts. He placed his toothbrush neatly away and then began to clear the desk. After a while Jim poked his head over the edge of the wooden side of his bed and watched him. The ten year old was extremely neat and tidy, bordering on obsessive. All the pens went in one pot, the lids had to be properly on them, the papers were stacked and then placed in the exact middle of the wooden desk, the pencil shavings were brushed neatly into his hand and then placed in the waste paper bin. After the desk was completely tidy, Sebastian got on his knees in front of the picture of Jesus and clasped his hands together. 

“Dear God,” he mumbled, trying to be quiet so Jim wouldn’t listen in. “Thank you for all I have. I have been good this week so please don’t send me to Hell. I am sorry I swore on Tuesday, but I didn’t mean to, it just came out. Love from Sebastian Moran. Amen.”

Jim listened to this in rapt silence. That was nothing like the prayers his mother and father said. They always talked about stupid daily bread and trespasses. The dark haired little boy rested his head on the side and watched Sebastian’s face. He had his eyes closed and looked very serious.

Only when Sebastian got to his feet and crossed himself did Jim pipe up. “Praying is stupid.”

Sebastian bristled and shuffled from foot to foot. “It’s not. It’s good”

“God isn’t real, doofus,” Jim declared lightly, not meaning any harm. “There isn’t any proof he exists.”

The blond boy looked up at the ceiling with fear, blue eyes darting everywhere. He crossed himself again and then took a deep breath.

“The Bible is proof,” he said, glancing at Jesus’s face apologetically. “And you shouldn’t say stuff like that. Or you’ll go to Hell.”

“Better than Heaven,” Jim pointed out, blinking curiously at the paranoia on show. Back in Ireland most people were Catholics, but they weren’t as shifty as Seb. 

“Heaven is for good people. Jesus is there and everything,” Sebastian explained, stepping back slightly so he didn’t have to crane his neck to look at Jim. “You’re little so you don’t understand, but Hell is the worst place in the world. You burn there.”

Jim laughed at that and then shook his head. “There’s no proof, Seb,” he informed his roommate. “It’s just to trick you in to being good. Like everything else.”

Sebastian nibbled nervously on his lower lip and then returned to his kneeling position in front of the postcard. “Dear God, please forgive Jim, ‘cause he’s only little. Thank you. Amen.”  


“Take that back!” Jim demanded angrily, hanging over the edge of the bed and pointing accusingly at Sebastian. “I don’t want him to forgive me! I don’t want anyone to forgive me! I’m not sorry! I’m not!”

Sebastian shook his head and crossed himself again. “I’m just trying to help you,” he mumbled. 

Jim, who wasn’t used to having other children want to help him, bit back his response and simply stared at Sebastian. After a moment, he hummed a bit and got himself comfortable again, disappearing from sight. 

When it reached nine, Sebastian turned the main light off and turned on his lamp so he could read before he went to sleep. He felt guilty for not reading the Bible, but he had a new comic to read and he wanted to get to the end of it. Jim seemed to be asleep because he was almost completely silent, apart from the sound of relaxed little breaths and the occasional sleepy sigh. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian awoke in the middle of the night because he could hear a sniffling sound. At first he panicked that it was The Devil come to get him because of his swearing on Tuesday, but then he realised that the noises were coming from above him and if it was The Devil the noises would come from below. 

Jim was crying and trying his best to muffle the noises in his pillow. It wasn’t working very well though. He didn’t want to wake Sebastian up and get into trouble. At home in Dublin he got into trouble if he woke his baby sister up because she cried for hours and hours and the neighbours sometimes shouted through the walls and threatened them all. Jim wasn’t scared of the people next door because they were on drugs and drugs were just medicine, besides, they never actually went through with any of their threats. 

It wasn’t because he felt lonely that he was crying, because he never got lonely. It was more because he was in a new place all alone. There was a difference, Jim thought, between loneliness and being alone. Loneliness meant you needed other people and wanted them there, being alone merely meant you were by yourself. A huge difference. Because Jim didn’t need anybody.

Jim was so scared when he heard feet on the ladder that he hid himself under his covers. He didn’t want Sebastian to be angry with him like his parents used to be. A couple of times they slapped him to make him be quiet, and he hated that. Sebastian was quite a big boy really, and Jim supposed being hit by him might hurt quite a bit. 

“Jim?”

The voice was low and gruff, but didn’t sound angry. Still, Jim had to be on his guard.

“Wha- what do you want?” he demanded tearfully, his voice cracking slightly as he started to cry again. 

Then there was no answer, so Jim assumed Sebastian had gone. Relieved, he pulled the covers down so he could breathe properly again, only to find the other boy watching him. 

“Don’t you dare tell anyone!” Jim hissed at him, defensive now Sebastian had seen his tear stained face. It was okay for people to see him cry when he had a tantrum. Part of the fun of having a tantrum was people seeing you. But when you got sad at night it was horrible for someone to know how upset you were. 

“Is it my fault?” Sebastian asked quietly, chewing on his lower lip anxiously. Even in the darkness Jim could see that his blue eyes weren’t cross at all. They looked…kind. 

Jim sniffled and wiped his nose on his sheets. “No, don’t be an idiot,” he berated the boy.

Sebastian swallowed. “Oh. Right. I thought it was because of what I said to you about Hell,” he mumbled, hanging his head in shame. 

For some reason that made Jim laugh and his expression changed instantly as he began to giggle. He placed a hand over his mouth to mute the noise. Sebastian looked confused and pleased and started to blush. Usually he hated people laughing at him, but Jim was so little and sad that it didn’t matter when he did it.

“I already knew all about Hell before you told me,” he informed Sebastian, wriggling in his sheets and rolling his eyes cheekily at him. “My Mummy and Daddy used to read the Bible all the time. They said I was a sinner.”

Sebastian’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s what my Father said to me!” he told Jim quickly, his surprise making him rush his words. 

“It’s all lies,” Jim reassured Sebastian, reaching out to stroke his blond hair. He decided he liked it and then patted Seb’s head as though he were a dog. Jim had always wanted a dog. 

“How do you know I’m not a sinner?” Sebastian asked eagerly, ignoring the way Jim was patting his head. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he drawled, having now completely forgotten about his sadness. “Silly Sebastian. I know because you came up here to see me and because you tried to save me from Hell.”

Sebastian’s blue eyes widened and he nodded his head, suddenly feeling less afraid than he had done before. 

Jim giggled again and snuggled back into his duvet, wrapping himself up like a caterpillar. “Now hush,” he commanded the blond boy in a bossy little voice. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Sebastian mumbled, smiling slightly at the odd phrase Jim had just used. He wondered where he’d got it from. Maybe from his mother?

Jim closed his eyes and hummed slightly. He had an expectant look on his face and Sebastian didn’t know what to do. He supposed he should climb back down the ladder now and leave him in peace. 

“Night then, Jim,“ he mumbled, leaning down to press a light kiss to the little boy’s pale forehead. He then proceeded to disappear back to his own bed, leaving Jim staring up at the ceiling with wide brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying it so far!


	3. The First Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys sit down to breakfast and Jim encounters his first real enemy.

The morning came quickly, light streaming through the gap at the top of the blue curtains in Jim and Sebastian’s room. Seb cracked an eye open right on time, just before the alarm was due to go off. He had trained himself to do that and was very proud of his skill. Sebastian dreamed of being a soldier in the army and he was trying to teach himself discipline so he would be ready when he was old enough to join. 

He turned off the alarm setting, since he thought it might be nicer to wake Jim up himself, and opened the curtains, frowning at the gap at the top. He hated it. Sebastian liked things done perfectly and the gap in the curtains was letting him down. He would have to find something to fasten it with tonight, he mused. 

Sebastian scaled the ladder to Jim’s bunk for the second time and smiled slightly at the sight that greeted him. Jim was all cuddled up, his duvet wrapped around him tightly. When he was asleep he looked even younger than he was. Just like a baby, Sebastian thought. Seb had always wanted a baby sibling and his biggest regret was that he was an only child, at least, to his knowledge he was. For all he knew he could have tons of brothers and sisters he would never get the chance to see. He had been taken away from his Father when he was four years old and although his mother had said she was going to leave Augustus, Sebastian knew that she was probably still with him. His mother was too nice for her own good. She probably felt sorry for him, even though he was in big trouble with the police.

Tentatively, Sebastian placed a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Jim? It’s morning, Jim,” he mumbled. “Wake up.”

Jim shook his head, still half asleep, and then grabbed hold of Sebastian’s arm, hugging it close to him. “Don’t wanna…” he sighed. “Leave me alone.”

Sebastian smiled slightly at that. “I can’t leave you alone if you’ve got my arm,” he pointed out gently. 

“The arm can stay,” Jim declared. Sebastian’s small smile grew to a beam. He liked this Jim kid. He was funny. And cute. Like the little brother Sebastian had always wanted. 

“C’mon,” Sebastian tried again. “Otherwise Frank will try to wake you up, and he’s a lanky moron.”

That tactic worked. Jim’s brown eyes fluttered open and he smirked tiredly at Sebastian’s description of Frank. “He is a lanky moron,” Jim agreed, still not letting go of Seb’s arm. “We hate him, don’t we?”

Sebastian screwed up his face as he pondered that. He didn’t think he hated anybody really, but he wanted Jim to be happy, and he didn’t really like Frank, so he nodded his head. “We do.”

Jim giggled and then sat up, finally letting Sebastian go. They climbed down the ladder one by one and Jim went to sit on Sebastian’s bed while Sebastian headed for the wardrobe looking for clothes. Jim’s kicked his feet backwards and forwards idly. Even though he was on the bottom bunk they didn’t quite touch the ground so he was able to swing them. 

“What’s for breakfast?” Jim asked as Sebastian chose a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with the American flag on it. The smaller boy reluctantly looked away as Seb changed into clean boxer shorts and got dressed. 

Sebastian put the hangers away neatly and then turned back to Jim. “Toast, cereal. Bacon because it’s Saturday. Beans if you want them.”

Jim nodded his head and hummed happily. Back in Dublin there was hardly anything to eat. He remembered being hungry most of the time. “Choose me my clothes and give them to me,” he ordered Sebastian. 

Obediently, the blond went through Jim’s rucksack and picked him out a green stripy t-shirt and some baggy jeans that looked far too big for the eight year old sitting on his bed. He pulled out the first pair of pants he could find and then chucked them all on the bed beside Jim. 

“Are you like this with everyone, or is it just me?” Jim asked as he got changed, not even bothering to turn around. Sebastian averted his eyes and found himself and Jim a pair of socks each. 

“Like what?” he asked nervously as he sat on the floor to put on his black socks. 

Jim sighed as though Sebastian were being deliberately uncooperative. “Nice. You’re being nice. Are you nice to everyone?”

“Er, no,” Sebastian admitted as he closed the drawer and moved Jim’s rucksack under the desk. He picked up both of their night clothes and placed them in the laundry basket by the door. 

“Do you have friends?” Jim asked with interest, frowning at his toes because his socks had twisted uncomfortably around them. 

Sebastian moved to help Jim, kneeling in front of him and freeing each toe one by one. “Not really. Like I said, I get angry. I hit things. People sometimes.”

The blond reached up to smooth Jim’s fluffy hair back into place. It was sticking up at all angles. The way Jim mewled happily and blinked his massive dark eyes at Sebastian as he stroked his hair reminded the blond of a kitten

Jim poked Sebastian lightly in the chest with his foot when his hair was passable and then grinned broadly. “Good. You’re mine now. You don’t need other people.”

The blond went bright red to the tips of his ears and looked at Jim uncertainly, head bowed. He placed his hands in his pockets and scuffed his socks on the floor. “I dunno if-“

“You don’t have a choice,” Jim informed him happily, hopping up and taking hold of his hand. “Now you have to tell me everything I need to know about being here. Because I don’t like being new.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Frank was worn out from being up half the night with Chloe who was deeply upset because of a letter she’d got from her mum earlier that evening. As the ginger haired care worker knocked on Jim and Sebastian’s door to tell them to come down for breakfast, he was surprised to hear chattering from inside the room. He almost couldn’t believe his ears. Sebastian was notoriously silent, barely grunting a word to anyone apart from Dawn. 

“Boys,” he called, knocking on the door. He heard grumbling and then Sebastian swung the door open. Both boys were already fully dressed and the room was spotless. 

“You don’t have to tell us about breakfast,” came a theatrical little Irish drawl from behind Sebastian. He appeared at the blond’s side glaring murderously at the care worker. 

Frank smiled at the pair of volatile males and received nothing back. He sighed and then nodded his head. “Good to see you two getting along so well,” he said positively. “Breakfast is ready downstairs. I’d get down there before Toby and Graham finish off all the bacon.”

Sebastian would usually have smiled slightly at that or nodded his head, but he and Jim had decided they hated Frank, and so he just grunted something incoherent and wandered past him, Jim following clinging on to his hand. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim wanted jam on toast with plenty of butter and no crusts. Verity told him he’d have to just have toast with crusts on and not eat the outside part. That almost sent Jim flying into a strop until Sebastian took two pieces of toast from the rack, buttered them, put strawberry jam on them, cut the crusts off, and then placed them on Jim’s plate. The little boy beamed and tucked in, nibbling his toast with enthusiasm. 

Sebastian decided to have bacon and beans, as usual finishing up two whole plates before he was full. He had the biggest appetite in the home because he liked to play sports. People didn’t usually mind, but Toby got jealous because he was older and wanted to be known as the toughest. 

Toby was from Yorkshire and had a gap between his two front teeth. He had a slight accent which he liked to think made him formidable, and he suffered from anger issues, just the same as Sebastian. It bothered him that a boy younger than him should have the reputation as being the fiercest and he went out of his way to belittle Sebastian whenever he could.

He wasn’t violent like Seb, but he was cocky and had a filthy mouth on him. He wasn’t very happy in Westminster and missed his big brother which made him take his sadness out on the others. Today, Sebastian and the new boy looked far too happy and he wanted to spoil that. It wasn’t fair that they should be happy when he wasn’t. 

Sebastian was just putting more jam on Jim’s toast because he liked it to be spread evenly, when Toby leaned across the table and hissed. “Playing Mummy to the little brat are you?”

Jim snuggled against Sebastian’s arm for instant protection. He just wanted to eat his toast. He was happy today and so he had an appetite. When he was sad or upset he couldn’t eat anything. 

The blond glared across at Toby, his blue eyes growing cold. He finished with Jim’s toast and then put the plate in front of his roommate, all without looking away from Toby and his smug, spiteful face. 

“Dunno why they put him in with you,” Toby continued lowly. “You’ll kill him by the end of the week. You’re mental.”

To Sebastian, this was the last straw. His breathing exercises went out the window the moment Toby threatened his friendship with Jim. Jim was only eight years old and Sebastian wanted to look after him, not scare him. He wanted to care for someone for once in his life and do a good job of it. And Toby was spoiling everything. Making out he was some sort of psycho when he wasn’t. He just got angry quicker than most people. That didn’t mean he would hurt Jim. Sebastian didn’t think he could ever get angry with him, and he’d only known him a day. 

In a second the fairly relaxed Saturday morning attitude turned sour as the rest of the table began to notice the way Sebastian’s nostrils were flaring with rage and the way Toby was trying to annoy him by making faces from across the table. 

Sebastian slammed his fists down on the wood, making it shake for a moment, eliciting a tiny gasp from Jim. 

“Shut your face you goddamn piece of shite!” Sebastian yelled at Toby, shocking everyone, even Jim. He picked up the salt shaker and lobbed it across the table. Luckily for Toby he ducked just in time. The shaker shattered against the wall and salt went all over the floor. 

“Sebastian Moran you will go to the cooler this instant!” Verity shouted down the table, her bland voice sounding like a monotone loudspeaker. Everyone was silent as they waited for Sebastian to explode again. Jim merely leaned back and watched Sebastian with awe. Sebastian was defending him. And he’d used such bad words!

Toby was grinning now, pleased to have got a reaction from Seb. He sat back and placed the broken pieces of the salt shaker on the table, making a show of being good for Verity. It wasn’t hard to get Sebastian in trouble seeing as Verity didn’t like him and his temper flared up so easily. 

Chloe, who wanted to be in on the trouble, gave an innocent little look and then asked loudly. “Verity, what’s a ‘shite’?” She was nine and knew very well what it was, having quite the vocabulary on her herself. 

“Now, Sebastian!” Verity commanded, glaring at him. “You’ve already lost the chance to see the rugby game, do you want me to take away your football privileges as well?”

Sebastian stood up sharply, pushed the table hard so all the drinks spilled and then swore under his breath. He stormed out of the room to the cooler, having been sent there enough to know how everything worked. 

Dawn passed him in the corridor. She could easily recognise the danger signs and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as he went. As much as she wanted to follow him and hear his side of whatever had happened, she knew she was needed for her shift, which probably meant clearing up any mess that had been made. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The children were all giggling excitably. Most of them loved it when Sebastian kicked off, even though it was quite frightening. Toby was wearing a faux-innocent expression, one Dawn knew well. He was usually the culprit when Sebastian’s temper came to the fore. 

Dawn tied her blonde hair back in a low ponytail as she approached the table and forced her usual optimistic smile. She said good morning to them all and then went to sit in the empty space beside the new boy and opposite Toby. She thought he might need keeping an eye on seeing as Verity seemed entirely unconcerned by his actions. Verity’s stance on these situations was very much ‘boys will be boys’. Dawn had her own take on things. Toby was a very unhappy child, bordering on adolescence, and liked to wind people up. Sebastian had clearly been the victim of his lethargy. It didn’t seem at all fair to Dawn, but unfortunately she didn’t have the power to do anything about the situation other than talk to Verity yet again and try her best to calm things down. 

“Good morning, Jim,” she greeted cheerily, grabbing a plate and helping herself to a piece of toast. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Jim was confused by Dawn and very distrustful of her. She was an adult after all. But she had brought he and Sebastian sausages in the cooler. 

“It was okay,” he said simply, not wanting to get into a conversation with her. He was still feeling annoyed about Sebastian being sent away from him by horrible nasty stinky Toby. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t like sitting at this table with the stupid idiot children. He hated them all. 

Jim pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his head as well, curling up in a ball on his chair. 

Dawn took a look at him and frowned sadly. He was very little, she thought. Like a six year old. And although he had been very rude last night, she imagined it must be incredibly difficult to move to another country by yourself, especially at his age. She rather liked him in an odd kind of way. He was a friend for Sebastian at least. 

“What’s the matter, Jim?” she asked softly, watching him with her large blue eyes. 

“He’s missing his Mummy Sebastian,” Toby taunted from across the table. Graham, who was sitting beside him and had a lot more common sense than his best friend, nudged him in the ribs to shut him up. 

“Toby,” Dawn began tiredly, “Can you not show a little bit of kindness to Jim? I would have thought an older, mature boy like you would have wanted to show him how we behave here? Set him a good example?”

Toby hung his head. Despite being the biggest troublemaker in the home he still liked and respected Dawn. Everyone did. She was like the big sister they all desperately wanted. 

“Don’t you think you should tell Verity what really happened?” she prompted carefully. 

Toby fell silent for a moment and then nodded. He kept his eyes on the ground and made his way down to the other end of the table to speak to Verity. Dawn gave him an encouraging smile to spur him on and then gave him another sympathetic one as he got told off by Verity. As the others all turned to watch the show of one of the oldest of them all being told off as though he were just a naughty little kid, Dawn distracted them by suggesting they all play a game of rounders later. That managed to grab most of their attention, although Chloe was still watching gleefully, and Jim looked so thrilled that his eyes appeared to glint.

Verity left Toby looking down in the dumps, disappeared for a couple of minutes and then returned with Sebastian in tow, looking ashamed of himself and a lot calmer than he had been before. 

Dawn got out of Sebastian’s place so he could sit down again and patted him on the back to show that everything was alright and she understood. He turned his head and gave her his bashful smile, settling down in his seat again. Jim leaned on Sebastian tiredly and then glared across the table at their new enemy. 

“I’m sorry I threw the salt shaker at you, Toby,” Sebastian said in a steady voice. He clearly didn’t mean his words, but they were still loud enough to hear and that was all that mattered. 

“I’m sorry I said what I did,” Toby recited obediently. Both boys were still snarling at each other but it was as good as they were going to get. 

As Dawn moved away from the table, relieved that the fight had been ‘resolved’, she just about caught sight of Jim’s tiny hand grabbing for Sebastian’s and holding it tight under the table. Her blue eyes widened slightly as she saw Sebastian interlocking their fingers and rubbing Jim’s pale digits soothingly with the pad of his thumb.


	4. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is planning revenge on Sebastian's 'enemy', and Sebastian is desperate to protect Jim at all costs.

“Is Dawn’s hair naturally blonde, would you say?” Jim asked conversationally as he and Sebastian sat in the garden watching the rounders game. Sebastian had played for bit earlier and he was shockingly good, always hitting the ball no matter how fast it came at him or how terribly it was aimed. After the first three games Sebastian was asked nicely to sit out so he could give the little ones a chance. He nodded gruffly and went to sit by Jim on the patio. The younger boy had refused to participate but agreed to watch.

“Yeah, I think so,” Sebastian answered, watching as Bradley was caught out unexpectedly by Pippa who was guarding the third base because of her wheelchair. He clapped along with the others, not really paying Jim much attention. The younger boy sighed and moved on to his next idea. Kitchen bleach was too risky and so ‘Plan A’ was to be abandoned. 

“Do you particularly need your alarm clock?” Jim tried, pondering something with a little hum. To regain Sebastian’s attention he decided to lay across Seb’s lap with a lazy mewl. As expected, Sebastian took the bait and smiled softly down at him, moving one hand to stroke Jim’s dark hair. Had Jim done that to anyone else they would probably have smacked him, he mused. 

“Why? Did you want it?” Seb asked. His tone suggested he would be perfectly happy to surrender it to Jim. The little Irish boy couldn’t believe his luck. Sebastian Moran was perfect. He did as he was told and he was nice and he looked good. But Jim still had a test for him, one he wasn’t sure if he would pass or fail. If he did pass this one, however, Jim would keep him forever. 

Jim nodded his head and snuggled against Sebastian’s stomach, wrapping his arms around his waist. Sebastian looked pleased and embarrassed and gently rubbed Jim’s back. He really was just a baby, wasn’t he? Kind of cute, Seb reckoned, all needy and possessive. Usually Sebastian’s affection was hard bought, but with this little Irish kid it was almost instant. 

Dawn, who was in charge of the rounders game, looked over to Jim and Sebastian and paused momentarily. She smiled slightly uncertainly and then beamed with pride as she watched the way Sebastian was looking after Jim. In all the time Sebastian had been in care, he’d never had a proper friend. Dawn had been his only confidante, the only person he could talk to and wanted to spend time with. It was about time Dawn’s secret favourite had some happiness in his life. He was a good boy really, no matter what his school said, or what Frank and Verity thought. Sebastian was capable of great kindness and with Jim it seemed it wasn’t going to waste. 

“Sebastian?” Jim asked quietly, sitting up slightly and then wriggling in to Sebastian’s lap. The older boy wrapped his arms around Jim’s small form protectively and waited patiently for him to continue. 

Jim giggled and wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s neck, deciding he was going to have to do this properly if he wanted Sebastian’s cooperation. From what he’d observed already, Sebastian was devoted to him almost instantly. Jim had no idea why but he was glad because it made things easier for him. Now he could use Sebastian as a bodyguard so people wouldn’t hit him anymore. And he had someone to talk to who wouldn’t interrupt him. And best of all Sebastian wasn’t stupid at all. Even though he was quiet a lot of the time, Jim could tell he was a deep thinker. 

“How much do you hate Toby?” he whispered into Sebastian’s ear, his breath tickling the older boy slightly. 

Sebastian was confused by the question but answered lowly. “I dunno. I definitely don’t like him.”

Jim didn’t think that was quite enough and so he decided to add a little story of his own, to breathe poison into Sebastian’s trusting ear.

“Do you know what he said to me?” Jim said in a small voice. “He said to me that you were going to kill me one day. He told me that you were going to hurt me. He made me scared.” 

Jim felt Sebastian stiffen with a mixture of anger, panic, and shame. The eight year old had seen at breakfast how afraid Sebastian was of Jim rejecting him because of his temper. Jim supposed that the worst thing for Sebastian would be him being scared of him. He smirked because Seb couldn’t see his face and then hugged him tighter, making a show of being afraid. 

“I’d never hurt you,” Sebastian promised instantly, voice low and truthful. “I do get angry sometimes…but not with you. You have to believe me. I care about you. So I wouldn’t hurt you. I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t like Toby,” Jim mumbled, still laying his act on as thick as possible. He squinted in the sunlight and then let go of Sebastian, leaning back so he could see his face. The older boy looked devastated and eager to please. “Toby makes me scared,” he continued. 

“I’ll sort him out for you,” Sebastian promised. “I can do some damage if you want?”

“I do want,” Jim agreed solemnly. 

“Okay then. I’ll break his jaw for you? I did that to a boy at school last year. I can do it again,” Sebastian said, thinking furiously. He’d been excluded back then and promised he wouldn’t ever repeat the action, but times changed. If Jim needed protecting then Sebastian was the boy for the job. Anyway, it didn’t count as a sin if you were doing it for a good reason, did it? Surely God would want him to look after Jim because he was little and afraid? It certainly seemed like he would. 

Jim shook his head. “People will know you did it and then you’ll be in trouble,” he pointed out. “I have a better idea.”

“Okay,” Sebastian mumbled, still listening keenly.

“I need the battery from your alarm clock,” Jim told Sebastian, suddenly businesslike and determined. “Do you know what’s inside a battery, Sebastian?”

The blond shook his head looking slightly dazed by the transformation of the boy in his lap from vulnerable to scheming. 

“Lithium. Lithium’s inside a battery. And it hurts humans if they ingest it,” Jim prompted, watching Sebastian’s uncertain eyes carefully. He pouted like a sulky child and then let his own brown eyes well up. He didn’t like to be seen crying, but sometimes it had to be done to get people to do what you wanted. 

“Oh,” Seb breathed, starting to panic. Jim crying was a bad thing. Something he had to stop. Because Jim wasn’t supposed to be sad anymore. Not now Sebastian was there to look after him. He tried a smile and then wiped Jim’s tears with the pad of his thumb. “Please don’t cry,” he mumbled. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

Jim was almost thrown off his plan when Sebastian told him that. It was so nice. Nicer than anyone had ever been to him. But he had a job to do and nothing could stop him until it was over. It was a gift for Sebastian anyway, and in the end he’d thank him.

“I want to put some in his tea,” Jim explained in a small voice. “It’ll make him very sick. But don’t worry, he won’t die.”

Sebastian looked deeply uncertain. He shook his head slightly but was stopped by Jim’s pale hand grabbing hold of his chin. “Please?” Jim begged. “Please help me, Seb. Please?”

“What if it goes wrong?” Sebastian mumbled. “We could go to prison.” Or Hell, Sebastian thought, not wanting to even say the horrendous idea out loud. 

“It won’t go wrong. I have a plan. It’s perfect. Please help me.”

Jim gave Sebastian a long look, all large brown eyes, a trembling pink lower lip, and tears glistening on his cheeks. 

Sebastian was conflicted. He wanted to get Toby back for all the times he’d been mean to him, and especially for what he’d said to Jim, but Sebastian didn’t want to hurt him. The injuries Sebastian caused were always spur of the moment decisions, times when he lost control. A premeditated attack was out of character for the blond. It was a sin. Breaking his jaw in front of other people was noble. Sneakily poisoning his tea just seemed, well…wrong. 

Just then Toby appeared in the garden with Graham. He’d been washing up with Verity and had a very stern talking to about upsetting the littler children and winding up Sebastian. Toby was feeling mightily sorry for himself and extremely bitter. He spotted Sebastian and Jim all huddled up in the corner on the patio, cuddling like siblings, and decided to walk over to them. Graham warned him not to but he didn’t listen. Toby never listened to Graham even though he talked a lot of sense. 

“What’s he crying for?” he asked Sebastian roughly as he approached, drying his damp hands on his jeans. “Did you beat him up? Or worse?” He gave a suggestive grin that made Sebastian’s stomach lurch.

Jim gave a perfectly delivered whimper and hid his face in the crook of Sebastian’s neck. That was all it took. He could feel the change in Sebastian. 

“Fuck off,” Sebastian growled at Toby. But instead of lashing out, he scooped Jim easily into his arms and began to carry him back in to the house. Jim stuck his tongue out at Toby over Sebastian’s shoulder and then snuggled up to his savior happily. This time tomorrow Toby would be out of their way. That would teach him to be mean to his Sebastian.


	5. Betrayal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan to punish Toby is put into action, but is Sebastian having second thoughts?

It was all done marvelously well. Jim got Sebastian to smash up the batteries and then he squeezed out the gunky insides, spooning them into a tea bag and carefully sealing it up again with the precision of a surgeon.

Sebastian couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jim’s angelic, intent face, even as he committed such a sinful act. They were sitting on the floor of their bedroom, Jim cross-legged and leaning forwards over the tray Sebastian had stolen for him to make his ‘creation’ on . Seb was leaning with his back against the bed, legs stretched out in front of him. They had barricaded the door just in case someone decided to disturb them, although it was unlikely anyone would at this time of the afternoon. Sebastian was well known for disappearing off to his bedroom to read his books in the afternoons, and no-one knew anything about Jim yet so they’d assume he’d just tagged along with Seb. 

“All done,” Jim chirped sweetly, holding the tea bag by the string in front of Sebastian for his inspection, dangling it back and forth as though trying to hypnotise him. 

The blond nodded his head in admiration, but couldn’t bring himself to speak. This was dangerous. This was the sort of thing that made The Devil come and get you in the night and drag you down to Hell. 

Jim noticed Sebastian’s nerves but didn’t comment on it. As long as he didn’t chicken out then he’d pass the test. It didn’t matter how unwilling he was. If he could take orders then he was a good boy and was allowed the gift of Jim’s friendship. 

“It’s a shame we have to wait until tomorrow morning, but at least it’s not longer than that,” Jim remarked, getting up and wandering over to the desk, plonking the tea bag in the empty glass on the side. “You’ll have to get rid of the evidence,” he remarked. He didn’t have to say anything further because Sebastian had already taken the hint and was clearing up the tray and the mess the batteries had become. He would put them in a bag and run all the rubbish down to the skip later. After all, when one of the kids came down with a tummy bug the care workers were hardly going to go burying through a skip for evidence. They weren’t clever enough to even suspect anything. At least, that was what Jim thought. 

After a quick trip to the bathroom to scrub their hands clean, the boys spent the rest of the day barricaded in their room. Jim demanded Sebastian climb up to the top bunk and then drape the duvet from there over the edge of the bed so it served as a makeshift camp for the pair of them, covering almost all of Sebastian’s bed. 

It felt safe all holed up together, in the darkness because of the duvet blocking out all the light. Sebastian rested his arms behind his head and listened intently to Jim’s chattering as the Irish boy settled himself comfortably with his back against the wall, skinny legs on top of Sebastian’s own outstretched ones, toes just peeking out from under the duvet that hid them both. 

Sebastian learned a lot about Jim in that afternoon. He found out that Jim was a natural born storyteller, maybe without even meaning it. The little boy embellished all his stories to make them sound more exciting or more dangerous or more dramatic. He memorised the musical dips and highs of Jim’s melodic Dublin accent until he reckoned he could imagine Jim saying just about anything in his head. He discovered that Jim was fiercely private and scared of people discovering his secrets, because of the nervous furtive looks that Jim shot him whenever he felt like he might be revealing too much too soon. Sebastian also realised that Jim didn’t get smiled at very often, because whenever the blond did so, Jim would blush, or look away, or look confused. He was sweet and he was childish, but he had one hell of a brain ticking away in that head of his. Sebastian stopped raising his eyebrows at all the complicated words and terms Jim was carelessly throwing into his speeches after the first few minutes of listening to him. Seb thought Jim was a fantastic person. Interesting like someone from a book. 

That night dinner was eaten as quickly as possible so they could get away from the others and disappear upstairs again to their little haven. Sebastian watched his table manners for Jim’s sake, and Jim ate almost half a plate of his pasta, which was a lot for him, just so Sebastian wouldn’t worry about him. 

Jim didn’t fuss about brushing his teeth because Dawn was on duty that night and she didn’t annoy him as much as Frank. He didn’t even call her a rude word when she asked Sebastian to help her with carrying Pippa’s things upstairs. Jim supposed it was best Sebastian was chosen because he could be trusted with helping and he was probably the strongest. 

When the door was closed behind them, Jim watched Sebastian go through his night time ritual of saying his prayers and tidying the desk. It was relaxing to watch the methodical way Sebastian worked, one thing after the other until everything was done. He even climbed on top of the desk so he could close the pesky gap at the top of the curtains. While he was up there, Jim dangled over the edge of his bunk so they were both on the same level. Sebastian turned to him with a smile and moved his arms to hold Jim up, just to make sure he wouldn’t topple over the edge. Jim simply giggled and kissed Sebastian on the cheek before using Sebastian to push himself back up to his bunk properly again. He didn’t even watch Sebastian’s reaction. He knew he would blush and do that pleased, gentle expression. 

Jim listened to Sebastian settle in his bed and stared up at the ceiling, waiting. Down the hall Graham and Toby could be heard having one of their usual arguments but other than that all was peaceful. Right on cue, Seb cleared his throat and mumbled “Night, Jim. Sleep tight, yeah?” 

The Irish boy beamed and turned on to his side. “Night, ‘Bastian. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The plan was carried out with efficiency and precision. Sebastian offered to help Dawn bring the things in from the kitchen and took his opportunity to place Jim’s teabag in the pot. He placed it down in front of himself, and as expected Toby grabbed for it so he could use it first. Jim only just managed to hide his smirk as Toby poured himself some tea and then got told off by Dawn who was worried he might burn himself. When the attention was off him, Sebastian picked up the tea pot and carried it back to the kitchen. He poured all the water away and then put the tea bag in the bin. 

Toby complained of stomach pains after breakfast, clutching his gut and making a fuss. He was a good actor when he wanted to be though, so for a while Dawn just told him to cheer up and that she’d bring him a bucket if he needed it. He went upstairs to his room to have a lie down while Sebastian and Jim headed out to the garden to enjoy the sunny Sunday morning. 

Jim didn’t want to get dirty by laying on the grass, and he was scared of all the nasty bugs that lived in the ground, so he made Sebastian lay down and then crawled on top of him, avoiding contact with the grass and the dirt. Seb didn’t mind being climbed on whatsoever. He was so used to being avoided like the plague that the easy way Jim showed him affection was a blessing. Besides, Jim was little and he wasn’t very heavy. He was a little bit awkward though because he was all angles, and so when he wriggled about Sebastian had to try not to mind. 

Because Dawn was so calm and keen not to induce panic in the children, the siren for the ambulance was the first anyone but Dawn and Verity knew of Toby’s condition. Sebastian blanched completely as Jim dragged him in with the others to see what was going on. They had to act like they didn’t know what had happened if they wanted to avoid suspicion. Sebastian, of course, was only partly acting, seeing as he’d been under the impression that all that would happen to Toby was he’d get sick to his stomach for a day or so. 

Jim was a brilliant actor. He hid his glee expertly and started acting all ‘cute’, clinging to Sebastian’s hand, pretending to be worried. But Sebastian pulled away from Jim, horrified. 

As Toby was stretchered down the stairs and out of the house accompanied by Verity, watched by a gasping audience, half of whom were secretly thoroughly enjoying the entertainment, Sebastian’s skin began to yellow and he began to shake his head mutely. Jim looked to his right and then pouted with fury, his eyes burning at Sebastian, warning him to pull himself together. Graham was crying loudly because he wasn’t allowed in the ambulance with Toby, and Sally was getting cross because Pippa’s wheelchair had run over her toes in the rush to see what was going on. No-one but Jim and Dawn noticed Sebastian back away from the crowd, looking green and deeply unwell. Jim was left to act all by himself, inside panicking that the blond idiot would give them both away with his cowardice. 

It was over fairly quickly. Graham was led to the kitchen by Viv and Carly for chocolate biscuits. That made Jim feel slightly bitter, seeing as on his first day they told him he could only have one. Maybe it was because it was Dawn in charge now instead of stupid grumpy Verity. 

As the children dispersed Jim went on his hunt for Sebastian. He peered into the kitchen, rushed down the corridor and then spotted the back of a familiar blond head sitting in the meeting room through the little window in the door. He moved closer and peered right in, pressing his tiny nose against the glass. Dawn had won. She’d got there first. She’d stolen his Sebastian from him. 

Dawn was talking to Sebastian kindly, although Jim couldn’t hear the words, and Sebastian seemed to be hanging his head. Jim lingered outside for a while, thinking over his options. Sebastian couldn’t be allowed to spill the beans. He simply couldn’t. Deciding there was nothing else for it, Jim let himself into the meeting room and was stunned to see Sebastian looking like he was about to be sick and Dawn now with her arm around his shoulders. As soon as she saw Jim she mouthed ‘not now’ and Jim was forced to leave the room. If he complained then he would incriminate himself. All that could be done was to wait and think of ways to talk himself out of trouble.

Sebastian had seemed so brave and smart, but now Jim wasn’t quite so sure about him. What if he’d been betrayed by the ten year old? What if he was going to be sent away again? He liked it here. He liked having the top bunk. He liked having someone talk to him who wouldn’t bully him or hurt him. 

Silently furious Jim decided to go up to their bedroom and sulk. Bradley, who was passing, decided to stick his leg out just for the fun of it. But Jim, who noticed far more than he let on, simply skipped over it and continued on his way. Bradley was lucky he was preoccupied, because if he hadn’t been then Jim would have jumped right on Bradley’s leg instead of missed it. He knew exactly where to push for the bone to break and he thought he could probably do it even though he didn’t weigh very much.

Jim slammed the bedroom door and paced around, nerves burning under his pale skin. If he wasn’t Jim Moriarty then he would have admitted that he was scared. Terrified he’d be ripped away from the only person he’d decided to trust in all his life. And even more terrified that Sebastian cared about Dawn and stupid old lithium filled Toby more than him. 

After a few minutes of puffing out indignant little breaths he decided to teach Sebastian a lesson for being a sissy. He went to the blond’s meticulously ordered desk and messed it up, throwing things on the floor and taking the lids off the pens. Although it seemed like a little thing to be doing in light of the circumstances, Jim knew how Sebastian worked and he knew this was one of the worst possible things he could do to him. As a finishing touch when everything was completely out of place, he took a blue felt tip pen and drew a silly moustache and devil horns on Sebastian’s postcard of Jesus Christ. That would teach him, Jim thought viciously. It would serve him right for giving the game away. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian had gone into a state of near shock after the ambulance arrived. If it hadn’t been for Dawn he didn’t know what might have happened to him. As the other kids chattered and speculated about what was going on, and Graham was being mothered by Viv and Carly, Seb retreated down the corridor and then felt his legs buckle beneath him right outside the meeting room. Thank goodness Dawn had spotted him before anyone else, leaving the hall before the children who wanted to enjoy the excitement together. Dawn wordlessly helped him up and led him into the meeting room. There she sat him down in the most comfy chair and pushed the tissue box towards him in case he wanted to cry. 

It was difficult to describe how he felt, although he knew Dawn understood. It was like he wasn’t real anymore, like he was a ghost. He felt weak and young and like he wanted to cry but couldn’t. He was cold all over and his hands were trembling. He was partly glad that Jim hadn’t followed him. He didn’t want the eight year old to see him this weak. 

He didn’t see Jim enter the room behind him and get sent away, which was probably for the best in Dawn’s opinion. He barely even noticed Dawn move to close the door after him. She moved close to him and kneeled down so she was more on his level, a gentle smile on her face. Her blue eyes were sad and she had the same kind expression that Sebastian had recently taken to wearing when talking to Jim. Anyone looking in could have mistaken them for siblings.

“It’s okay now, Seb,” she told him quietly, not wanting to patronise him but wanting to show her concern. “It’s alright. You just need to take some deep breaths for me, okay?”

He obediently did so and made eye contact with Dawn. She gave him an even wider smile that showed she understood and was proud of him for being so brave. They didn’t talk much after that, but gradually Sebastian’s legs stopped feeling numb and stiff and he felt like a person again instead of a ghost that didn’t matter. 

Ten minutes later, after having been treated to a chocolate biscuit and given a hug by Dawn, Sebastian trooped upstairs for a little nap like Dawn had suggested. When he woke up he’d feel better probably and then maybe he could have a bit of Sunday lunch. He liked Sunday lunch and Dawn let him help with mashing the swede sometimes. Cooking was something he privately quite enjoyed. 

Bradley, who was still loitering on the stars with his games console took one glance at Sebastian and decided not to try and trip him over. When Sebastian was upset he was unpredictable and that was scary. 

Sebastian opened the door to the bedroom expecting it to be empty. Instead he found Jim sitting mutinously on the carpet glaring up at him. And then he noticed the desk and his postcard and the clothes hanging out of the drawers.

“You coward!” Jim hissed at him, raising himself from the ground like a snake ready to strike. The door closed quietly behind Sebastian as he tried to take in what was happening. He swallowed and looked back at Jim, his eyes terrified for the first time. 

“Not a coward,” he managed to gasp out even though his chest was heaving and he felt like he wanted to collapse again. 

Jim made an angry noise and gave Sebastian a hard shove. Even he was stunned when Sebastian almost fell over. “You’re useless!” he continued, wondering what this weak boy had told Dawn, wondering if they’d send him somewhere else, wondering if they’d get separated, something Jim saw as one of the worst possible things that could happen. “You let me down! You were supposed to follow me! I had a plan you idiot!”

The blond ten year old staggered back as though he’d been physically wounded and then shook his head like he was confused. He only just made it to his bed before laying down on his front and hiding his face in his pillow. It took Jim a few seconds to realise that Sebastian was crying. 

Horrified, Jim rushed from the room to leave him to it. It served Seb right if he cried all day long. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When Jim came down the stairs a stressed-looking Dawn spotted him and beckoned him in to the meeting room for a chat. The Irish boy felt his heart skip and his pulse speed up. He wasn’t scared of getting found out, but he hated not knowing things. He didn’t know what or how much that stupid lump upstairs had told her and that left him at a disadvantage. Sebastian was crying which most likely meant Dawn had called the police. 

“How’s Sebastian doing?” was the first question to leave Dawn’s lips as Jim took a seat. She was being far too nice, so Jim assumed it must have been a trick. A clever one, but he was cleverer. He wouldn’t say anything no matter how nice she sounded. 

“Okay,” Jim answered with a shrug of his shoulders, his dark eyes watching Dawn for any signs of deceit, of being led into a trap. 

Instead of questioning him further she let out a long sigh and then gave him a kind smile. “He’ll be alright again in a little while,” she assured Jim gently. “Even if he seems very upset for the minute. When he’s had a sleep he’ll be as right as rain, just you wait and see.”

“Was he…very sad with you?” Jim asked Dawn, hoping to trick her into giving away some of their conversation. Right now he was confused and he hated being confused.

Dawn gave another weary smile and nodded her head, pushing a few strands of hair away from her face uneasily. 

“You two are friends, aren’t you?” she asked him, although it seemed she already knew the answer. Jim nodded his head and said nothing. Telling her about the argument would have been absurd. Telling her he had decided Sebastian was useless was pointless. Silence was his only option. 

“He cares about you,” Dawn pointed out, rather unnecessarily in Jim’s opinion. Only an idiot couldn’t see that. “He’s a nice boy, Jim. A kind boy.”

Jim nodded again because he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to bite his nails with nerves, but he stopped himself at the last minute. That might give the game away- that was, if Sebastian hadn’t dropped him in it already. Getting someone to ingest lithium was quite a bad thing to do really, Jim supposed. Maybe it was too big to start with. Maybe it had been a mistake. He should have tortured Toby mentally instead. That way they wouldn’t have been able to prove anything. 

Dawn swallowed and looked uncomfortable before deciding on something. “Has he said anything to you, about…” She trailed off, not wanting to put words into Jim’s mouth apparently. On instinct Jim nodded his head. 

“He has a bit,” he lied, looking grave. He had no idea what Sebastian was supposed to have told him, but he had to keep up the pretense. “But he wasn’t very clear about it. He’s very upset.”

Dawn nodded her head again and looked very sad. “He’s a very brave boy,” she said quietly. “Very brave indeed.”

Jim felt like he wanted to scream because she was being so cryptic. Was that it then? Had Sebastian confessed it all? Well, Jim didn’t think it was at all brave to drop your roommate in it. Especially not when Jim had kissed him on the cheek last night as a present. 

“I did ask them not to use the sirens once they got close,” Dawn told him. “But I think in the rush they forgot. Well, I suppose they had to use them. Sad really.”

Jim didn’t know what she was getting at, but his heart was hammering inside his chest and he couldn’t help picking at his nail subconsciously.

“And then when he saw the stretcher…well, that was my fault. I should have been paying better attention. But the others were getting in the way and obviously Toby was the main priority.”

Was she apologising? Why was she apologising? What sort of an interrogation was this? Was it all a massive double bluff to make him confess?

“The stretcher?” Jim prompted, eyes sharp, tone slightly desperate.

“They carried him on a stretcher,” Dawn explained sadly. “He was only little when it happened but he still remembers. Of course he does. Younger than you are now, Jim.”

“Yes, of course,” Jim agreed impatiently, mind whirring. 

Dawn nodded again infuriatingly. “What you have to do when Sebastian is like this is just look after him a bit, okay?” Dawn said softly as though she were departing a great and kind secret. “You’re his roommate and I realise it must be difficult to see him like this, but he’s going to be alright. It doesn’t happen often. It was just a bit of unlucky timing for you. The ambulance triggered him off.”

Jim blinked at Dawn and made a he effort not to let his jaw drop with the reluctant realisation creeping down his back like icy spikes.

“Only rule is: just don’t speak badly of his father, okay?” Dawn added solemnly. Jim realised he was being trusted with something massive. Something too big for him. Something he didn’t want to know even though in his heart he had made the link already. “I know what he did is unforgivable to you and I because we care about Sebastian, but Sebastian still loves him very much, even now, and it will upset him if anything bad is said about him.”

Jim felt his stomach lurch as his brain came to a sudden, sickening halt at the right conclusion. The feeling he was experiencing was so alien that his brain was starting to swim. What was it?

“I should go and…check on him,” Jim faltered, needing to get away from Dawn. He hopped from his chair and headed for the door before Dawn could notice that he too had gone a terrible grey colour. His legs were shaky and his face felt all hot and cold at once. 

He missed Dawn smiling kindly after him as he darted out of the room and rushed up the stairs, not pausing for breath although his chest was aching. He needed to get to Sebastian because he knew what the feeling was now. It was the one Mrs Mardon had told him he didn’t have the ability to feel. Guilt. 

Sebastian wasn’t a coward at all. He hadn’t told Dawn anything. He hadn’t breathed one single word. And now he was crying and Jim had hurt him and left him and ruined his things. Jim stopped outside the bedroom door, took a deep breath, his whole body shaking with embarrassment and shame, and then pushed it open slowly, returning to his poor brave Sebastian. Wondering if he would ever love him again or if he had ruined it all already.


	6. Apologising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim attempts to comfort someone for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putting the notes up here because this chapter has mentions of self harm, suicide and child abuse. Just letting you know in advance. I don't want to trigger anybody.

Comforting someone was not something Jim had ever done before. When his baby sister had started screaming Jim dealt with it by telling her to shut up or he’d put her in an envelope and post her to China. No-one had ever comforted him when he was sad either, so he had no experience whatsoever. What were you supposed to do when someone was crying? Hug them maybe? Dawn had hugged Sebastian in the meeting room, hadn’t she? But what if that was wrong?

There was that time back in Dublin when the baby had cried when she was very young and Jim wanted to pick her up. His parents shouted at him for trying to lift her out of her crib and said that he was doing everything wrong. Jim had decided he was definitely never trying to help anyone ever again after that. No grownups anyway. Even he had to admit that it wasn’t the baby’s fault that time. 

Sebastian wasn’t in his bed and for one horrible moment Jim panicked that he’d hanged himself in the bathroom or cut his skin open because he was so sad. Jim had tried to hang himself before, just like his daddy had tried to. But Jim hadn’t tied the knots tight enough so he just fell on the bathroom floor, and his mummy found his daddy when he was turning blue but not quite dead. One time his daddy had cut all his arm up with a razor blade and he had to stay in the hospital, which was scary at the time but not anymore. Jim realised that although he’d told Sebastian a lot about himself, he didn’t know much about the other boy. What if he had The Depression like his father? What if Sebastian had tried to hurt himself?

There was a slight scuffling noise and Jim spotted the shape of a boy curled up underneath the desk. Jim closed the door gently and let out a sigh of relief. Sebastian didn’t look dead or injured at all. At least, not from where Jim was standing. 

He approached tentatively, carefully kicking pens out of his way as he went. The mess he’d made in the room seemed even worse now than he remembered it. It would take ages to clear up again. 

“’Bastian?” Jim said very quietly, peering down at the boy and frowning ever so slightly. When he didn’t get a response he crouched down so he was on Sebastian’s level. 

“Poor ‘Bastian,” Jim murmured, shifting to Sebastian’s side and then cuddling up to him as best he could. He felt Sebastian stiffen at first and then slump in defeat. Jim knew Seb wouldn’t hurt him, even if he wanted to. 

“Please will you come away from the desk?” Jim asked, pulling at Sebastian’s arm slightly. “You can lie down if you want. I’ll even stroke your hair for you and wrap you up all warm. Please?”

Sebastian grunted and then sniffed fiercely. He was still shaking with anger and sadness. He didn’t want Jim’s pity. He didn’t want anyone’s pity. But he did want Jim to be okay. He didn’t want poor baby Jim feeling guilty. He did rather want his hair stroked and to be looked after. It felt good to be cared for. 

The blond emerged from under the desk reluctantly, nodding his obedience as Jim stood up and held his arm tight. His right hand was red and swollen and his knuckles were bleeding from where he’d punched the wall, but that didn’t really bother him. He was able to dissociate himself from pain fairly easily now.

“Good boy,” Jim praised as he ‘helped’ Sebastian get into his bed. He stood by loyally and smoothed the duvet over the other boy. Sebastian’s expression was dark and he wouldn’t look Jim in the eyes. Jim could see that he was very wound up indeed and the wrong word could very likely set him off. But the right word could soothe him and Jim was willing to take that risk. 

Being babied was odd, Sebastian mused as Jim kept on brushing his hands over the duvet as he played at looking after him. The actions weren’t real, they were an act. Jim was just a little boy copying what he had seen the adults do. But Jim’s intentions were sincere and Sebastian didn’t want to hurt Jim’s feelings, not now he was making such an effort to atone for his earlier words and actions. Thing was, Sebastian knew in his heart that he was a useless coward, so Jim couldn’t be blamed for what he’d said. Not really.

Jim blinked down at Sebastian and then leaned over to press a little kiss to the boy’s sweaty forehead. Seb would usually have blushed, like he was supposed to, but this time he just fixed Jim with a thoughtful stare and didn’t even blink. 

“I know all about how brave you are now,” Jim informed Sebastian. That didn’t even seem to get a reaction. Still the blond watched Jim’s face with an odd sort of detachment. 

Jim wanted to ask some questions so he knew for certain, but he didn’t want Sebastian to get upset. He decided to start very slowly and carefully so he wouldn’t make Seb worse.

“I didn’t realise you didn’t like the sirens. But that’s okay, ‘Bastian. I don’t like things too. I don’t like most people. But I like you.”

Still Sebastian said and did nothing. Just kept on breathing deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

“Why did your daddy hurt you?” Jim asked quietly, his heart beating far too fast because he was nervous. 

Sebastian looked momentarily pained, gave a half shrug and then rolled onto his side so he was facing the wall and not Jim. 

Jim wasn’t particularly deterred. He wanted to know the answers and he was going to get them. The Irish little boy climbed into the bed next to Sebastian and wrapped his arms around him, clinging to his back tightly. 

“What happened, ‘Bastian? Will you tell me?” he whispered persistently.

Sebastian grunted and sniffed. “It’ll upset you,” he told Jim in a gruff voice, shaking ever so slightly with his tears. “You’re only little. I don’t want you to be upset.”

Jim smiled at that and almost giggled. He could tell that Sebastian was only saying that so he didn’t get upset himself. Jim could almost always see through people when they tried to act. Luckily he remembered the circumstances and remained dignified and solemn instead of pointing that out. “I won’t be upset,” he promised eagerly. He knew it was wrong to be so excited about finding out Sebastian’s secret, but he couldn’t help it. Often he reacted ‘wrongly’ to things. That was what his counsellor back in Dublin had told him. He got happy when he was supposed to be sad and got sad when he was supposed to be happy. He was wrong.

“How much did Dawn tell you?” Sebastian asked in a low voice, staring at the wall and blinking at the slight dent his fist had made. He was getting stronger, he noticed. He’d never managed to make a dent like that before with just his hand.

“She told me that when you were little your daddy did something to you that made you go to the hospital. That’s why you don’t like ambulance sirens, because it reminds you of when you were even younger than me.”

The blond never spoke about his Father. He had a photograph of him which he treasured, in which he was wearing his army uniform giving that stern look that he gave sometimes, which Dawn kept safe for him in the study so it wouldn’t get ruined. People wouldn’t understand if he explained what happened. They all thought his Father was bad and that wasn’t true at all. Even Dawn thought so secretly, even though she tried to pretend she didn’t. 

He swallowed and then chewed on the inside of his cheek. Jim was different to the other people he knew. He was little and sad and maybe telling him might make him less scared when he got angry? It might make him understand why he snapped sometimes. And he needed Jim to know he wasn’t a monster. 

“My Father used to hurt me sometimes,” he whispered, eyes fixed on the wall. He didn’t move at all. “When I was bad he had to teach me to be better, see? But it went wrong.”

Jim’s eyes were wide and his attention was fixed firmly on Sebastian. He wanted to hear more than that. He wanted details. “Went wrong?” Jim prompted carefully. 

Sebastian sniffed and then nodded slightly. “He broke some of my bones. Then my mummy called the ambulance. They took me away from them after that.”

The little Irish boy’s eyes skimmed up and down Sebastian’s body, hunting for wounds. But of course he could see none. It had happened a long time ago. “Where did he hurt you?” Jim asked. 

“My ribs broke,” Sebastian told Jim obediently, his voice empty and low. He was emotionally disconnecting himself like he always did when the memories came back to him. “I had lots of bruises on me as well. I think my arm broke but I can’t remember.”

“And did he hit you with his hands or something else?” Jim questioned with pure, hungry fascination. 

“With his fists and with his belt,” Sebastian murmured. “I still have some of the marks on me. They said they’d go away when I got older, but they haven’t yet and it’s been years.”

Immediately Jim’s eyes lit up, a dangerous thrill running down his spine. He sat up slowly and then rested his head on Sebastian’s unprotesting shoulder. “Are they very bad?” he mumbled comfortingly, his words soft and gentle. 

“Not terrible,” Sebastian said. “They’re just not very nice to look at. Sometimes I look at them when I’m in the bath. I don’t like them.”

“Can I see?” Jim asked, unable to hold the question in any longer.

Sebastian began to sit up uncertainly. He turned to face Jim, both of them now sitting up in bed, and swallowed slowly. “I’ve not shown anyone before,” he told him. “Apart from when I was little and they had to give me baths. But not for years now.”

Jim paid little to no attention to Sebastian’s fear and uncertainty. His eyes roamed eagerly over Seb’s body. “Are they on your chest or on your back or somewhere else?” he asked. 

“Back,” Sebastian mumbled. He knew that Jim wanted to see them. He could tell by the almost hungry look in the boy’s dark eyes. The blond nodded his head slightly and then began to lift his shirt, peeling it from his skin very carefully, as though the wounds were still sore. 

Sebastian was frozen to the spot now. All it would take would be turning around so Jim could see his back and his secret wouldn’t be a secret anymore. 

“It’s okay, ‘Bastian,” Jim soothed, waiting for him to gather the courage to turn. “I won’t think any differently of you.”

With a sniff Sebastian shifted on the bed so he was facing the wall again, his back now in full view of Jim. He heard Jim’s sharp little intake of breath and winced, eyes welling up. 

Sebastian’s back was littered with little scars and there were a couple of long pink scratches, very deep ones that had healed over pale, a different colour entirely to the rest of his skin. Three in a row. Like claw marks although more likely caused by the buckle of a belt or even keys. It was a truly horrendous sight but Jim couldn’t help the gleeful curl of his lips at being the first person to see. 

“J…Jim?” Sebastian mumbled, voice shaky and uncertain. Jim had gone completely silent after that gasp. He hadn’t even moved. 

Jim reached out and traced the largest scratch with the tip of his pale finger, tongue trapped between his teeth with concentration. The marks were raised and when Jim stroked the skin with his eyes closed he could read them like brail. 

Sebastian sniffed and made another huge effort not to flinch away from Jim’s touch. He wondered what Jim was thinking. Dawn told him that the marks didn’t matter and that they’d eventually get better. She said that it’s what’s inside that counts. When Sebastian had voiced his concerns to her she told him a story about when she was at school and the other girls had called her fat and ugly. That made Sebastian feel better. Not because of Dawn’s misfortune at school, but because he knew for certain that Dawn wasn’t fat or ugly. At least she didn’t seem to be to him. And that meant that if ever people made fun of him in PE he could just ignore them because they were spiteful and their words weren’t necessarily true. But even with that in mind Sebastian couldn’t find the courage to ever take off his shirt when the others got changed for games. People still picked on him anyway, though, because he lived in a care home and disappeared into the toilets to change. They knew his Father was in prison and they said Seb smelled because he was in care. Sebastian was secretly very hurt by that, because he washed a lot and Dawn and Verity and Frank always made sure his clothes were clean. In time he’d come to realise it was what the people at his school said about all the care home children. They thought they were freaks.

The blond little boy looked over his shoulder, twisting as best he could to see what Jim’s reaction was to his scarring. Jim seemed to draw himself out of his trance and met Sebastian’s gaze. “Poor Sebby,” he commented gravely, hoping Sebastian hadn’t noticed the interest on his face. 

“I know it’s…it’s very ugly,” Sebastian stammered, turning around properly and pulling his shirt down again to cover his skin. “But Dawn says it will go away eventually. Lots of them have gone already.”

“Hush now,” Jim commanded Sebastian, placing a pale finger over Seb’s lips to stop him from talking. He could see Seb was flushing with embarrassment and Jim was suddenly protective once again. “You need to have a sleep. And I’ll get someone to clear up.” The Irish little boy helped Sebastian lie down again and then snuggled in next to him, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

The room was silent for a few moments as Sebastian began to relax. From where he was positioned, between the wall and Jim, he could pretend that the room was clean and Jesus’s face hadn’t been vandalized. The Devil wouldn’t get him while he slept either. He couldn’t because it was Sunday and because Jim was with him and The Devil never took away two people at once. 

“You know,” Jim piped up eventually as they heard distant clattering in the kitchen from where lunch was getting started. “I think it’s very beautiful that you have those wounds.” 

“Do you?” asked Sebastian uncertainly. 

“Yes. I think that when you’re older you can show them off so everyone knows how brave you are and nobody ever messes with you,” Jim explained. “And you’re going to be very big and strong anyway, I can tell, so they’ll just look even better.”

Sebastian actually smiled a tiny bit at that. He supposed it was true. Dawn was always commenting on how fast he was growing, and Sebastian hoped he’d become more like his Father as he aged. Maybe the scars wouldn’t look so bad? But then again, probably Jim was just being nice and lying to him. 

He wrapped his arms around Jim’s cold body and closed his eyes. He heard Jim mewl happily beside him and the pair of them drifted off for their nap together.


	7. School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim experiences his first week of school with Sebastian and is pleasantly surprised.

School was not half as bad as Jim was expecting. For starters, he was moved up a year which meant he ended up in Sebastian’s class. The blond was slightly ashamed about being a year lower than the other children his age, but Jim didn’t tease him about it. He would have if Sebastian was there because of stupidity, but Jim could see perfectly clearly that Seb was clever. All that mattered to Jim was that Sebastian was able to protect him from bullies (not that he’d ever admit to the fear he felt in the pit of his stomach when the other children threatened him or called him a freak) and that they could spend almost all their days together. 

Sebastian, who was keen to demonstrate that he wasn’t an idiot, explained that he wasn’t only in year five because he was thick. It was because he kept getting excluded for things and missed out on tons of the work. Jim’s eyes bulged greedily when he heard the story of the exclusions, suddenly very interested in the circumstances of the move down into the depths of year five, pouncing on it and trying to make Sebastian elaborate, but the blond blushed and mumbled something vague, refusing to give Jim all the gory details. 

The ten year old (after much pestering) muttered something about his most recent exclusion. Jason, his victim, a boy about whom no detail was given, had seen Dawn waiting in the playground one day when the class was let out late and called her a whale. Jim privately agreed that Dawn was a bit like a whale, but to be fair on her, quite a pretty one, well, for a girl anyway. The Irish boy understood Sebastian’s rage and nodded his head. He knew Sebastian thought Dawn was nice even though Jim could tell she was painfully ordinary. 

It was as good as a film to imagine what had happened based on the few details Sebastian gave. Jason pushing his luck in the cloakroom, the others laughing, Sebastian’s devastated face, and then his protective expression, the sudden change of his body language making him seem bigger and more dangerous. In his head, Jim could see Sebastian, glorious, glorious Sebastian, pushing the boy down and then stamping repetitively on his head…

The teachers sat the pair of them at a desk together, side by side. That was an awful mistake on their part because Jim whispered and giggled with Sebastian throughout almost every lesson. The older boy clearly tried to get Jim to behave, but apparently the Irish child only found the disapproval amusing. The teachers attempted to reprimand Jim and Sebastian, but when it came to looking at their books, both boys had always completed their work to a good standard and so their long suffering teacher, Mrs Maxwell, could hardly penalise them. 

Jim was delighted to witness how quickly, how logically and methodically Sebastian’s brain worked. He wasn’t as quick as Jim at sums, but he was still way above the rest of the class. Mrs Maxwell had long since realised that there was one hell of a brain inside Sebastian’s violent head, but it wasn’t until Jim arrived that she’d seen Sebastian actually complete his work without getting distracted or shifty and embarrassed. Mrs Maxwell suspected (rightly) that he wanted to show off for Jim, the new boy. Despite how little and cute-seeming Jim was, Mrs Maxwell couldn’t help but get a bad feeling about him. Every time she spotted Jim tugging Seb’s head down so he could whisper up close, or watched Jim give Sebastian a little smile that made Seb redden bashfully, she had the sickening feeling she was watching a predator and its prey. But not in the way one would expect. It was as though adorable Little Red Riding Hood had trotted out to the woods and hunted the poor wolf with a concealed axe in her basket full of treats, just waiting for the moment he turned his back so she could hack him apart and skin him for a new coat. 

Jim was exceptional at numeracy, but Sebastian unexpectedly excelled at literacy. Jim was amazed at how easily Sebastian could answer his comprehension questions. Writing seemed to come as easily to Sebastian as mathematics did to Jim. Jim watched Sebastian when he was writing, putting his pointy elbow on the table and resting his cheek on his palm. The blond licked his lips a lot and chewed on his pen lid when he was thinking. He was right handed and his handwriting was large and neat, each letter like a little individual block only just clinging onto the next with a thin line. 

At lunchtimes they sat together in the hall and had packed lunches, prepared by Frank and therefore healthy. He had left the crusts on Jim’s ham and salad sandwich on the first day. “I specifically requested no salad and no crusts!” Jim remarked angrily. Seb had disappeared for a moment, borrowed a knife from Victoria, a girl with mousey plaits and a crush on Seb who just happened to be having a school dinner, returned to Jim, taken the salad out of Jim’s sandwiches, cut off the crusts and then carried the cutlery back to Victoria. Jim didn’t fancy the apple in his lunchbox either, and so Sebastian did him an exchange, swapping him some grapes. Relaxed and full, Jim ordered that Sebastian tell him about everyone, starting with that ‘nasty ugly Victoria who stares at you like a creep’.

On Friday, after a long week of working hard and being stared at by everyone, Jim felt more settled than he ever had before. Despite people keeping their distance from the ‘stinky care home kids’, no-one had hurt him or called him names all week, which was very nice indeed. Laden with homework (well, Seb carried everything), the pair waited to be picked up by Frank. Homework was inhumane, Jim thought, and when he ruled the word he would ban it, but he was smart enough to know that refusing to do it would get him nowhere. Only after completing it all and getting good grades could he eventually make it to the position of power he craved. It was an awful truth, but Jim was a great believer in being realistic. You had to appease the idiots, and only then could you get them to do what you wanted.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Write two or three paragraphs about a person in your life; your best friend, parent, sibling, neighbour, aunt, uncle, grandma, granddad, pet…” Jim read out with a sigh.

He and Sebastian had eaten their daily chocolate biscuits when they got in and changed out of their uniforms into more comfy clothes. Now all that was left to do was homework, because Jim didn’t believe in leaving things until the last minute. He despised this particular sort of task, though. Equations were far easier and more practical. Seb, however, seemed to brighten at the idea. Jim had noticed over the past week that Sebastian scribbled things down in a diary that he kept underneath his pillow. The Irish boy hadn’t peeked in it yet, but he fully intended to just as soon as he had the opportunity. 

Sebastian sat up at the desk and Jim lay on his front on the carpet as they tried to work through the task as quickly as possible. Seb had suggested they do it tomorrow but Jim was very strict on the matter. As soon as it was done they never had to think about it again, (well, for the rest of the weekend that was) and Jim’s word was final. 

After about half an hour of silent writing, Jim sat up and cleared his throat expectantly. Seb reread his work, made a few corrections and then turned around obediently. 

“I wrote mine about you,” Jim declared carelessly, waving his book about. 

Sebastian was flattered by this and blushed a bit. “Can I have a look at it?” he asked. And so Jim handed it over, humming with boredom, clicking his tongue impatiently as Sebastian read his work. 

Jim’s piece went as follows: 

'My best freind is called Sebastian Moran. He is ten years old and has blond hair and nice blue eyes. He blushes on his ears sometimes. He likes to wear jeans and tee shirts. He is very tall and big (but not fat).

Sebastian is good at sports especially swimming. He is a Scout and very strong. He is kind to me and grunts at other people. Some people are scared of him but I am not. He is my best freind because he is the only one I have and we share a room. I have the top bunk. '

Sebastian finished reading with a slightly nervous smile. He hadn’t realised his ears blushed. Did they really do that? What did Jim mean?

“Did you think it was good?” Jim asked, now sitting on his knees and rocking back on his heels. “I didn’t think about it much because I don’t like writing things down.”

“Yeah, I really liked it,” Sebastian agreed with a nod of his head. 

There was a long silence and then Jim sighed, tilting his head to one side. “Come on then. Let me see yours. I can tell you want me to read it.” He grabbed for it and snatched it out of Sebastian’s unprotesting hands. A few moments into reading it, his face fell with a little sigh. Sebastian really was a good writer. Probably better than him. 

Sebastian’s piece read: 

'Jim Moriarty is my best friend. He has hair that is black like ravens and skin that is pale like milk. His eyes are large and glint in the darkness like glass that might cut you. Jim’s smile is very cheeky and happens slowly and then all at once. His eyes catch the idea first and then his mouth agrees and they beam together. He is small and has skinny legs. His hands are pale and white and little and very careful. His feet are cold like ice and clammy. 

Jim’s voice is very soft when he whispers and very soothing. His Irish accent means a lot of his words slip and slide into one and other in a long line of sibilance. He is extremely intelligent for an eight year old. He is funny and witty and knows just the right amount of time to leave it before he says something. He is talented at maths and can recite all his times tables with his eyes closed although he gets irritated if you ask him if he knows one, as if you should already know he knows. He starts with a sigh, pretending he is bored, but then he suddenly gets very fast like he is chanting and clicks his fingers with his left hand as the rhythm grows and then he speeds towards the twelve times tables. He ends with a glare that makes you want to clap. Jim is the most brilliant person I know. 

By Sebastian Augustus Moran. '

“That’s…really very good,” Jim conceded, looking slightly ashamed of his own effort. Yes, he hadn’t tried very hard, but Sebastian knew how to spell much bigger words than he did, and made everything sound better, a bit like a song or a poem. Sebastian’s words made Jim see pictures in his head, and even though he knew what he looked like, he could see a boy a bit like him in his mind, just as Sebastian had described. 

Sebastian, who privately thought his work was rather good too, attempted to shrug and then muttered, “Thanks.”

Jim got up and skipped over to Sebastian, perching on his lap and grabbing behind himself for the blond’s arms to wrap around him and keep him secure so he wouldn’t have to balance. 

“You make me sound…” Jim began, pondering his word choice. “You make me sound very interesting.”

“You are interesting,” Sebastian pointed out, slightly defensively because he noticed the sad tone creeping into Jim’s voice and didn’t want him feeling bad about himself. 

Jim shook his head. “I don’t do anything, though. You do swimming and Scouts and are good at sports and writing, and what have I got?”

“You’ve got your personality and your brain,” Seb said easily. “You’re a special person.”

“A special person?”

“Anyone could see it,” Sebastian explained confidently. “It shows up against other people. You’ll probably end up being someone important.”

Jim sat up straighter, preening at that description of himself. Sebastian was right. He didn’t have to be a good writer, or strong, because he had the best brain there was and he was determined to always get what he wanted in life. 

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Later that night while curled up in his bed, Jim wrote another description of Sebastian inside his head, trying to make it as good as Seb’s had been. 

'Sebastian has pretty blue eyes, the prettiest I have seen. He reminds me of a wild animal because of his temper. But that’s okay because I am like the lion tamer at the circus (although I have never been there) so he does not ever pounce on me or maul me. I know all the right words to say to make him not hurt me and he likes me anyway because I am like his owner now. He is very bashful sometimes but holds me carefully in his hands. His arms make me feel very protected and safe. I get the feeling that I could take on the whole world with Sebastian and we could win. Nobody would hurt us or bully us again then. He is very beautiful, even though that word is usually only for girls, which is silly, because girls are not at all beautiful like Sebastian is. I wish Sebastian could fight all the nasty people that have ever been mean to me until blood went everywhere and they were so badly hurt that they died…'

Jim never continued his second draft because he fell asleep smiling to himself. He dreamt of being the owner of his own circus and telling everyone what to do. When the audience started booing and said his circus was rubbish and should close down, Jim set his lion on everyone and they all ran away screaming while the lion ate the ones that were too slow to get away in time.


	8. Strike One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's plan to be rid of Toby finally comes to fruition, but Sebastian is left wondering if Jim really is as wonderful as he seems.

“Toby is okay,” Verity told the assembled children, rubbing her forehead with relief and smiling tiredly. There was a long silence. Graham started crying again, something he had been doing a lot of recently, Viv and Carly cheered which started the littler children off, Chloe let out a long inconvenienced sigh and got a pinch from Sally for being horrid, and Bradley turned the sound off his game as a sign of respect. 

Sebastian let out a breath of relief and then clapped a little bit. He turned to Jim and was stunned by the boy’s ability to act. Jim looked positively delighted at the news, his eyes wide and thrilled, his pink lips pulled unnaturally wide in a smile. He jumped up and down a bit, following the lead of Harry and Bradley, and then wrapped his arms around Seb in a joyous hug which Sebastian was very nearly too shocked to return. 

“He sends his love,” Verity lied. Graham sniffed and then wiped his eyes. “Now, he’s still not quite himself, but he’s been sitting up and chatting to me. So let’s all cross out fingers for him so he recovers quickly.”

Pippa took the instruction literally and crossed her fingers.

“When can he come home?” Bradley asked, looking up from his games console in a rare moment of care for another human being. 

Verity gave an odd smile and then swallowed, wishing Frank was there to deal with the situation. “We don’t know yet,” she said slowly. “It might be that he’s moved somewhere else so he can recover. Maybe this isn’t the right place for him.”

Graham looked as though he’d been punched in the stomach. Nobody had told him his best friend wasn’t coming back. And they’d argued so badly the night before he went. Carly put an arm around his shoulders to show her support. 

“Do people normally get hurt here?” Jim demanded very loudly and curiously. “Because ever since I’ve arrived it’s all sirens and tummy aches and only one chocolate biscuit a day…” Sebastian thought he was pushing it, just to see if anyone picked up on the obvious clue. Nobody did. 

“Of course not,” Verity said reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry Jim. Usually things are a lot more settled. I’m sorry your first week’s been so abnormal.”

“You’re abnormal,” Jim declared with scorn, grabbing Sebastian’s hand and tugging him away from the crowd. Verity didn’t even bother to respond. She had much bigger things on her mind than a badly behaved eight year old boy.

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The police arrived later with their sirens off. Chloe alerted the household when she spotted the pair of policemen on the way up the gravel path. She made a rude gesture at them, or so she told the others, but they did not see her. 

The children were asked to go and wait in the dining room, so of course they all flocked into the hall, wanting to see what the police were there for. Most looked at Bradley to see if he’d been stealing again. He shook his head good-naturedly and then swore because the character he’d been playing as in his game had died during the interaction. 

The only person who didn’t crowd into the hallway was Graham. Viv and Carly hadn’t seen him for a while and so decided to leave the excitement of the policemen in favour of checking his bedroom and the bathroom, just to see if he was alright. 

The moment the girls had disappeared up the stairs they were called back frantically as Graham was spotted in the meeting room with Frank as the doors opened for the police to go in. The children were silent until they realised they would not be able to hear through the walls and gave up on it. 

All of a sudden everything had changed. Viv and Carly looked pale. The children exchanged glances but nobody said anything. Most were thinking the same thing. 

They were herded into the dining room as previously instructed, by Verity, and the door was closed on them all. 

“It wasn’t a tummy bug that got Toby, was it?” Chloe said very quietly, taking it upon herself to break the silence. 

“If it was a tummy bug we’d all have had it,” declared Sally, trying to sound brave. 

Sebastian was feeling fainter and fainter by the second, but to his credit, it didn’t show on his face. The police were his enemy and they weren’t going to get him or Jim. They had put his Father in prison. They were evil and you couldn’t trust them.

Everybody eyed each other ominously. A simultaneous shiver rippled down the spines of all but two of the crowd. 

Jim took a deep breath and right on cue, said, “Somebody must have got him.”

He even added a little tremble on the end of his statement, and then the Irish child was clinging to Sebastian. 

In a few seconds everyone was in agreement. One of them must have ‘got’ Toby. And who was currently in the meeting room talking to the police? Who had argued with Toby on the night before he was taken to the hospital? Who was forever living in the other boy’s shadow, constantly ignored? 

Graham Jackson. 

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“What did you do?” Sebastian asked quietly when the boys were back in their bedroom. The police had come upstairs some time ago to look in Graham and Toby’s room and all the children had relocated to their own rooms to try and hear what was going on.

“Took the battery from his alarm clock and put it in yours,” Jim said with a shrug. 

“Jim,” Sebastian pleaded. “Jim, they think he did it! They think Graham tried to hurt Toby.”

Jim rolled his head in an odd reptilian circle and then tilted his head from side to side, clearly becoming frustrated. 

“I know they think that,” Jim said carelessly. “That was the idea, doofus.”

Sebastian ignored the insult and shook his head, trying to break through the cool exterior, the front Jim put on, to get to his heart. To his compassion. Sebastian knew Jim could be compassionate, he knew it. Jim might act cool and detached in public, turning his nose up at everyone and everything, but when he was alone with Sebastian he chatted like a perfectly normal boy of eight years old. He giggled and sashayed about and hugged Sebastian. 

“Jim, we can’t let Graham get in trouble for this,” Seb said lowly, glancing at the postcard of Jesus and knowing what Jesus would do in this situation. He would say sorry and tell the truth. 

“And what’s the alternative?” Jim demanded, flicking one of Sebastian’s tiny green plastic army men off the shelf as he passed. 

Sebastian frowned and then bowed his head in understanding. If Graham didn’t get blamed then it would be him next. Or Jim. Jim getting blamed from this was too horrible to contemplate. 

“Graham is what I like to call collateral damage,” Jim said slowly, trying out the phrase for the first time and deciding that yes, he liked the way it sounded. “Collateral damage.”

Sebastian dropped his head into his hands and began rubbing at his hair madly. 

“You told me Graham had schizophrenia,” Jim drawled, sounding extremely pleased with himself. “And that he heard voices sometimes. Well what if those voices told him to poison Toby? Hm? What if?”

“Stop it,” Sebastian begged, chewing on his lower lip so hard that he almost drew blood. “It’s not his fault he hears voices. He’s been getting better. He’s been doing counselling like me. Graham’s alright when he’s not with Toby.”

Jim did a twirl on the spot and then laughed at Sebastian’s expression. He looked like he was going to be sick. 

“It’s him or us, I’m afraid,” Jim said, although he didn’t sound very afraid, he sounded gleeful. “Him or us, Seb? Choose.”

Sebastian sniffed and then said weakly, “Us.”

Jim nodded his head. “That’s right. Us. The world is a bad place, Sebby,” he told the blond wisely, flicking some more of Sebastian’s army men off the shelf for fun. “We had to get rid of Toby. No-one cares about Graham anyway. You told me so yourself. You said everyone ignores him because of Toby. So.”

Sebastian still looked very pale and ill. Jim thought his expression was probably guilt, but Jim had only ever felt that once and he never got a chance to notice what it looked like on him. 

With a sigh, Jim picked up the army men from the floor and put them back on the shelf, hoping that might make Sebastian feel better. 

“Cheer up, ‘Bastian,” he said kindly. “Once Graham’s gone you’ll be at the top of the food chain. There will be no boys older than you then.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The next morning Graham was gone, having been taken away in the night to a more secure home for people with severe mental illnesses. It had been done so silently that not even Chloe, the home’s resident night watchwoman, had noticed. Graham passed like a ghost in the night and in the morning there were two empty seats at the long wooden dining table. Right opposite Sebastian and Jim.


	9. Thou Shalt Not Steal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian hatch a plan to sneak out of school.

Getting Sebastian to agree to escape from school in favour of visiting the local newsagents was almost too easy. The moment Jim brought it up, an odd, almost alien grin appeared on Sebastian’s face, and his eyes looked both thrilled and steely at once. 

“Lunchtime’s the best time to leg it,” Seb said lowly, as though planning a great military operation. The two boys were hidden in a toilet cubicle in the cloakroom where nobody would overhear them. Jim was perched on the toilet seat and Seb was leaning back against the door. 

Jim would usually have been more vocal about the whole thing, but there was something wonderful about this new side to Sebastian, and so he bit his lip and decided for once to follow someone else’s orders. 

“They’ve got dinner ladies on the front and back playground. Today’s Thursday so Mrs Blakeman and Sue will be on duty near the main gate, but they have to do cycles to stop the boys from bashing through the fence and getting into the gardens next door. That’s where we’re going from.”

“Isn’t it a little obvious to go out the front way?” Jim asked curiously, tilting his head to one side and licking his lips. 

Sebastian shook his head with the same strange half grin. “No, because we’ve got Mr Tomlinson on the back playground as well as the littler children. He never misses anything, and the little ones would dob us in. Plus Miss Page sits right by the back gate with her coffee.”

Jim nodded his head in understanding and shifted back on the closed toilet seat to get more comfy. Sebastian was far better at this than he’d ever dared to imagine. Last night, when the idea came to him, he thought he’d have to persuade Sebastian into it, or bribe him, or even threaten him. This was far preferable to any of those options. 

“So,” Seb continued in a determined but quiet voice. “What we need to do is take our chance at the best moment. Either when the girls have had a falling out, or when the boys from 6B are trying to retrieve a football or attempting to break the wonky bit of fence.”

The Irish boy licked his lips again and then beamed, his eyes dancing with mischief. “You can leave the distraction to me, Sebby,” he said with certainty. “And your plan had better work, or else we’ll both be in trouble and it will be your fault.”

The bell signaling the end of break time rang out and Sebastian and Jim evacuated their cubicle and headed back to the classroom. 

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During the two lessons that divided time between break and lunch, Jim got to work on creating a distraction. The girls in 5R were very stupid, in Jim’s opinion. They giggled too much, snitched too much and argued too much. Some of them also liked Sebastian far too much, and that made Jim’s skin prickle with anger.

He picked out his three victims easily enough. Shona and Rhiannon, who he’d observed were best friends, and then Alice, who was also their best friend but often felt left out by them. Jim deliberately got himself moved for talking and being rude, and was conveniently placed next to hardworking and well meaning, dopey Alice. He spent the rest of the double lesson saying things like, “So if Shona and Rhiannon are best friends, why do you tag along with them?” and “I don’t want to cause any trouble, but I heard Shona calling you an ugly liar to Rhiannon when I was behind them in the dinner hall yesterday.”

By the end of the lessons, Alice was tearful and angry, but as Jim knew, too meek to make a scene in front of the class. She would have to confront her friends out on the playground during lunchtime.

“Wish they hadn’t moved you,” Seb grumbled as the bell went and he was reunited with Jim. The younger boy winked at Sebastian and then pulled him close so he could whisper in his ear. 

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As the screaming and hair pulling commenced and a circle of onlookers began to crowd the three girls, Jim gave Sebastian the thumbs up. Just as planned, Mrs Blakeman diverted from her usual route and rushed to pull Shona off a shrieking and crying Alice. In the minute Jim had bought them, they rapidly but casually walked towards the main school gate and climbed over it, Jim getting a leg up from Sebastian, and then Seb taking it in one easy jump. 

Sebastian had his PE kit bag over his shoulder and as soon as the boys had made it down the road they took out two of Sebastian’s hoodies and put them on over their blue school jumpers. Jim’s was very long and baggy but he refused to let Sebastian roll the sleeves up. He was perfectly happy, he said, to be nice and warm, thank you very much. 

The newsagents was run by a nice Indian couple that Seb didn’t know the names of, but at lunchtime a young woman with red hair and a lip piercing minded the shop for them. Occasionally Dawn would take small groups of the children from the home to the newsagents to buy sweets or magazine with their pocket money, so Seb knew the place quite well. Verity disapproved of the ‘rash’ spending, but could hardly prevent it. After all, few children wanted to put their pocket money away in the bank to gain interest. 

The red haired girl, who today was wearing dark purple lipstick, had her headphones in and was humming along to her music. She didn’t notice as Seb and Jim headed past the till and went straight for the sweets and magazines section. 

“We’ve got two pounds of dinner money,” Sebastian said quietly, fishing the coins out of his pocket and showing them to Jim. The Irish boy giggled and then took Sebastian’s hand, leading him towards the pick and mix.

“I want all the sweets we can possibly buy,” Jim said gleefully. “I want a whole bag full that we can take home and hide in our room.”

Sebastian eyed the new superhero comic on the shelf wistfully but nodded his head. If Jim wanted sweets then he’d get sweets. Seb wanted Jim to be happy more than anything. 

The blond picked up a scoop and spent a few minutes taking orders from Jim. Such as: “No, not the blue ones. I like the red. Scoop again and not so many blue.” , “Cola bottles! Cola bottles! Fizzy ones, stupid. Yuck, not the plain ones,” and, “I suppose you’re allowed a tiny scoop of strawberry laces, but don’t take up the whole bag because I want some of those egg ones.”

When they had two paper bags almost full to the brim and spilling, Jim nodded his head with satisfaction and Seb was allowed to put the scoop away. Seb had been granted his strawberry laces, and Jim had cola bottles (fizzy), fried eggs, gummy bears, chocolate circles (with sprinkles on), Smarties, milk bottles and sour hearts and stars. He was extremely pleased with their days work. 

Sebastian’s stomach rumbled loudly, but he tried not to notice it. Jim’s packed lunch was still in the cloakroom at school, waiting for him, but Sebastian had given up his own dinner money for Jim’s sweets. 

“Time to pay now,” Jim announced, handing both bags of sweets over to Seb. The blond went to the till and tried his best to look as old as possible while he paid. He needn’t have worried though, because the girl barely even gave him a glance. She still had her earphones in and didn’t look him in the eye once.

Jim reappeared at his side, beaming happily and they left the shop. They stowed the sweets away in Seb’s PE kit, pushing them right down to the bottom so they wouldn’t be found by anyone. 

Halfway back to school Jim began complaining that his feet hurt and that he was tired, so Seb took the PE kit off, hoisted Jim on to his back and gave him a piggy back for the rest of the way. Jim swung his skinny legs happily and draped his arms around Seb’s neck, burying his nose in Sebastian’s blond hair. It smelled nice, he thought. Of shampoo from Seb’s shower the night before, and just of Seb. He closed his eyes for most of the way, humming a little tune he’d made up himself. The noise was very close to Sebastian’s ears, sometimes so close it tickled, but Seb didn’t mind. It was nice to be reminded his friend was so close to him. If he’d been told last year he’d have a best friend like Jim, who wasn’t afraid of him and even hugged him and kissed him sometimes, he wouldn’t have believed it. Sebastian was so used to being given a wide berth by everyone, and being labeled as scary and dangerous, that having someone as lovely as Jim seem to actually like his company was overwhelming. 

Sebastian let Jim down again on the road before their school so they could take off their hoodies. Jim looked extremely pleased with himself, but Seb put it down to their successful trip. Sebastian was feeling pleased as well, and slightly tingly all over. It was the same feeling he got every time he punched someone who deserved it. 

“What is it?” Seb asked tentatively, watching Jim’s beady eyes and gleeful expression. Sebastian’s lips twitched into a tiny smile of slight confusion, but mostly happiness. 

“Nothing,” Jim said airily. “Nothing at all. Now give me a leg up so I can get over the gate. Come on. Be careful. And don’t drop me over the other side, okay? If I end up in the mud I’ll have to eat your strawberry laces.”

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When the boys got home and, as usual, trotted up to their room to relax or play games, (although this time with the wonderful addition of concealed pick and mix) Jim still had that triumphant, devious look on his face. Sebastian was just about to ask him what he wanted when Jim suddenly put out a hand to stop Seb, patting him on the chest gently. 

Sebastian’s blue eyes glanced at Jim’s pale hand against his school sweatshirt and then he looked back up at Jim with patience and curiosity. 

Jim gave a little giggle, did a twirl and then reached underneath his too-big sweatshirt and produced a brightly coloured superhero magazine, brandishing it in front of Sebastian’s face with the air of a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. 

“Taa dah!” Jim sang before giggling to himself and whacking Seb in the chest with the magazine. “Take it then, go on.”

Seb swallowed hard and began to shake his head on instinct. The price was still on it. One of the Ten Commandments was ‘thou shalt not steal’. Stealing set you on the path to Hell. In fact, it might even send you down there to burn forever. 

“You…stole it?” Sebastian said weakly, breathing deeply and eyeing the comic with a mixture of horror and interest. It was the newest issue after all. It had Spiderman in it, and The Hulk. Back in the shop Sebastian had wished to himself that he had the money to buy it… but The Lord said taking things that didn’t belong to you was a sin. A big sin. A very big sin indeed. 

Jim nodded his head, laughing even more at the conflicting emotions crossing Seb’s face. Clearly he was feeling guilty on Jim’s behalf, but he was also touched by the gesture. And then there was the almost numbing fear. Jim could see it in Sebastian’s eyes. He inwardly resolved to use it to his advantage in the future. Sebastian had a lot of morals really, he mused, because of his stupid religion and stupid Jesus and stupid God. Jim was determined to take that predisposition for devotion and switch it to him. He would become Sebastian’s god. That way he could make the blond do anything he wanted. Anything at all. No matter how silly or bad it was 

“For you,” Jim clarified, his tone sweeter than before. “I stole it just for you. And stealing is a silly way to put it anyway. It’s just being quick and being clever. It’s a game and I won because nobody saw me. And this is the prize.”

“Stealing is a sin,” Seb said slowly, wanting more than anything to give Jim a hug. He had only wanted to make him happy, hadn’t he? He’d risked getting into massive trouble just to get him the magazine he wanted. Jim was just trying to be a good friend. Maybe this was Jim’s own version of kindness?

Jim put on his best disappointed face and slumped his shoulders with a tiny sniff. “Oh, well if you don’t want it then I suppose that’s…okay,” he said in a tiny voice, eyes downcast. Once again Sebastian was struck with the thought of how angelic Jim looked. His eyes were so large and his skin so pale, his expression so solemn. And he was so little. Sometimes Sebastian forgot because of the way Jim talked, but at times like this he was forced to remember. 

Maybe in time he could help Jim not be so naughty? Or he could at least steer him away from sins. Skiving was fun, and so was causing trouble. Sebastian got a thrill from breaking rules, just like Jim did, only the Ten Commandments were off limits. The Ten Commandments were the only thing shielding him from the burning fires of Hell. So long as he stuck to them, Seb thought, they couldn’t hurt him. The Devil would be strong like his Father, and that meant Seb wouldn’t stand a chance. He’d get hit until he broke and then get burned as well. 

Jim could not be allowed to break. Sebastian would sooner be torn apart by the dogs in Hell than let Jim get hit. 

With a long breath to calm his nerves, Seb stepped forwards and accepted the magazine. Jim still didn’t raise his head. So the blond gently placed his finger under Jim’s chin to encourage him to look up. Jim’s eyes were watery and his lashes were wet and dark. 

“Thank you,” Sebastian said quietly, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. Jim wrapped his arms around Seb’s waist and hugged him tight, sighing happily, beaming now his face was out of sight. 

Sebastian glanced over Jim’s head and mouthed ‘sorry’ to the postcard of Jesus Christ near the desk. If The Devil came for Jim in the night, then Sebastian would just have to fight him. Because he wasn’t going to take Jim. Not now and not ever.


	10. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian play hide and seek, and Sebastian finds a clue about Jim's life before the care home.

It was during a game of hide and seek that Sebastian came across the stack of photographs, tied neatly together with a blue ribbon. He had scrabbled about and crawled into the tiny space, folding up his long limbs expertly. After all, he’d seen all the war films and learned lots in the Scouts. It was part of being a soldier, knowing how to hide. It wasn’t all fighting. Sometimes you had to be clever and wait. That way the enemy couldn’t kill you.

Jim and Sebastian were evenly matched in their games of hide and seek. Jim was exceptional at seeking, because he liked to think about Sebastian’s mind and where the older boy would most likely hide to fool him. He nearly always got Sebastian’s hiding place in less than three goes. He was brilliant at hiding too, simply because he was so little and slight. One time Dawn had even helped him by lifting him up so he could sit on the washing machine in the laundry room, concealed behind a pile of clothes. He couldn’t reach high places, so it was nice to know that Dawn would help if she wasn’t busy. Despite his initial judgments on the blonde lady, even he had to admit she was helpful sometimes. Not like stupid Verity who liked rules more than sense, or lanky Frank who never thought before he spoke. 

Sebastian was great at climbing, and had very good balance for a boy of his age. He also had the added advantage that he knew the place far better, having been there since he was a young child. 

Of course, every game ended in a long hug of relief and triumph for the winner. There was a sinister quality to the activity, it sent a tingle of fear down both of their spines when both hiding and seeking. You could never know if you were being watched, or if someone was about to jump out at you. Jim usually won, because Seb carefully allowed him to, without making it too obvious. On the rare occasions when Jim lost, he would throw a strop and sulk and stamp his feet. Sebastian knew how to handle that though. He knew that all he had to do was kiss Jim on the forehead and tell him how wonderful he was. Jim always smiled after that, looking smug and satisfied. 

But this time when Jim found Sebastian, there was no hug of joy. Sebastian had an odd expression on his face, and was chewing his lower lip, a sign of worry and uncertainty. 

“What is it?” Jim demanded as Sebastian crawled out from under the bed on his belly, like an animal that had been hiding in the jungle. 

Sebastian said nothing, but got to his feet and held out the bundle of photographs, looking extremely guilty at having found them. Clearly they had been under the bed for a reason. Jim must have put them there, or more likely, kicked them there in a strop. But Sebastian couldn’t just pretend he’d never seen them. Because he was curious and because Jim had never exactly specifically ordered him to stay away. 

“Oh,” said Jim, eyeing the photographs with distaste. On the top was a photograph of two figures. A woman and a baby. He took a breath and stared Sebastian out, offering no information or assurance. 

Sebastian, who had been absolutely entranced by the sight of the baby in the woman’s arms, stopped chewing on his lower lip and instead decided to shuffle a bit from foot to foot. The picture was a bit out of focus, which was a shame, Seb thought, because he couldn’t see them properly. It was like looking at people when you were crying and the tears got in the way, distorting everyone, making them look strange and alien.

Very slowly, so that Jim could stop him if he wanted him to, Sebastian began to untie the ribbon, eventually pulling the pack of photographs free. He put the first photograph at the back and looked at the next one, being very careful not to get his fingerprints on them. It was obviously taken later than the first image because there were four people in it. A newborn baby, Jim, the lady and the man. 

“So this is your family?” Sebastian breathed, half talking to himself. He’d spent quite a lot of time wondering about where Jim came from. Wondering what Dublin was like, and who his parents were. Why Jim was in the care home in the first place. 

‘Yes,” Jim responded, instantly stroppy because he anticipated being dragged into a conversation he had no intention of being part of. “Leave them alone. Actually, no! Put them in the bin for me. Or rip them up. You can do it. I’m too tired.”

Sebastian looked at the next photograph, again putting the last one neatly at the back so they stayed in order. It was of a smiling young couple and a tiny baby. Sebastian instantly recognised Jim as the vulnerable little being. He had large, dark eyes and a curious, defiant stare. It probably would have been a glare had he been old enough to know how to sulk. The adults, who Sebastian assumed were Jim’s parents, looked quite ordinary. The lady had a dark bob and the same eyes as Jim, only her eyebrows weren’t so sharp and her expression wasn’t nearly as accusing. She looked incredibly tired but happy. The man, Jim’s father, had an odd expression. It looked to Sebastian like he’d had all his happiness sucked out of him. He didn’t look anything like Jim, apart from maybe the shape of his nose, although his was bigger than Jim’s. 

“Are you sure you want me to rip them?” Seb asked uncertainly, not wanting to do anything that might cause Jim future upset. 

Jim frowned and stomped over to Seb. He was slipping into one of his bad moods and angry at everything and everyone. The reality of his situation hung over him like a shadow. His parents never loved him and sometimes didn’t feed him and then they’d let him get sent away. He’d been abandoned by the idiots. The only people who were supposed to love him no matter what. “It’s just my stupid Mummy and Daddy,” Jim dismissed, glaring at the photograph. “Put them in the bin where they belong.”

Sebastian obediently did so, but didn’t rip the photo up. He intended on sneaking it out of the rubbish later and asking Dawn to keep it safe for Jim, like she was keeping the photo of his own father safe. 

“This baby isn’t you,” Sebastian said, looking at the next photo. Jim smirked slightly, pleased that Seb had realised that straight away. 

“It’s my sister,” Jim told him carelessly, showing no resentment towards the baby, but no love at all either. 

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Seb said, rather stupidly in Jim’s opinion. “I wish I’d had a brother or a sister.”

Jim looked instantly dismayed and alarmed. He snatched the photo from Sebastian’s hands and ripped it up into four pieces, leaving Seb looking pained and regretful. 

“It’s just a stupid baby,” Jim told him, in a voice that let Sebastian know just how idiotic Jim thought he was. Seb was not at all deterred. 

“How old is she now? Do your parents still look after her? Will you get to see her again?” Seb asked eagerly. 

“Shut up,” Jim demanded instantly. “I’ve grown weary of your idiocy.”

Sebastian would have been offended if he hadn’t found the comment so amusing. He had to try very hard not to laugh. Where on earth had Jim got that phrase from? It sounded like something a villain from a film might say, or a play. 

“Stupid babies,” Jim said viciously, returning to Sebastian’s bunk and laying down leisurely on his side. Sebastian picked up the pieces and put them neatly in the bin. 

“I like babies,” Sebastian said conversationally, thinking of the photograph of baby Jim and smiling. “They’re not bad like most people. They haven’t made up their minds about anything.”

“You’re a sissy,” Jim declared nastily. 

“Can’t help it if I like them,” Seb said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I think babies might like me. I’d look after one really well if I had one.”

Jim looked both astounded and appalled. He sat up with an incredulous expression plastered across his face. “All they do is cry, and poo, and scream all the time,” he informed him. “They’re annoying and I hate them.”

“You hate your sister?”

The Irish boy made a face that meant ‘it’s complicated’ and then said proudly, “I almost killed her.”

It had the desired effect on Sebastian because he recoiled in horror and made a little gasping noise. Jim, who was in one of his most antagonistic moods, grinned from ear to ear. 

“I tried to burn her alive. All of them. I tried to kill them all with fire but it didn’t work and so that’s why I’m here.”

“But she’s just a little baby,” Sebastian breathed, trying to align this new information with what he already knew of Jim. It didn’t fit the picture at all. 

“Does that repulse you?” Jim asked happily. “I bet you think I’m evil.”

“I don’t think you’re ev-“

“Well I already told you that I was bad and you should have- oh…”

The two boys stared at each other, both looking surprised and uncertain. “You don’t think I’m evil?” Jim questioned. “Even though I tried to kill a baby?”

“I don’t think it was a good thing to do,” Sebastian faltered, searching carefully for the words to say. “But I don’t think you’re evil. You’re not.”

Jim stared at him, not saying a word.

“You’re not,” Sebastian repeated. But it was almost as though he was trying to convince himself, not that he believed it. “Why did you want to kill them?”

“Because they didn’t love me,” Jim said simply. 

“Really? But they must have,” Seb said quickly, greatly saddened by the resigned delivery of Jim’s statement. 

Jim sighed and then waved his hand about as he usually did when explaining something. “They didn’t love me at all. My Daddy got The Depression and didn’t care about any of us. My Mummy thought I was a bad sinner and then she forgot about me when the baby came. The baby always cried and got me in trouble.”

Sebastian didn’t personally think the baby would have meant to get Jim into trouble, but he didn’t voice this opinion.

“No one in the world loves me, Sebastian,” Jim told him tiredly, flopping down on his back. “I don’t even care. I don’t need them anyway.”

“I love you,” Sebastian told him earnestly. “That’s at least one person who does.”

Jim shot back up, staring oddly at Sebastian for a moment. He was aghast at first, and then he was fierce. Last of all he started to look distressed. 

“You…you love me?” Jim asked, his bottom lip suddenly trembling and his eyes watering. “Do you really?”

“Really,” Seb agreed, and he meant it too. Sebastian didn’t have any real family now, so Jim was his new family. In families you had to forgive people for their faults and love them anyway. Even though Jim had wanted to hurt the baby, he hadn’t managed it. And he was little and upset. And Sebastian slept better with Jim cuddling up to him. 

Jim’s accusing expression and scared, watery scowl turned into a little ‘o’ of utter surprise. Nobody had ever loved him before. His Mummy said she loved him but then she forgot all about him. Sometimes she would take the baby somewhere and leave Jim at home with his Daddy. But his Daddy never cooked or cleaned or talked to Jim at all. The Depression had got him very badly. So sometimes when his Mummy went away Jim didn’t eat for days. He was too little to use the oven and he didn’t know how. There wasn’t anything in the cupboards and Jim’s stomach growled so loudly that it embarrassed him. He felt sick with hunger and slept and cried a lot. But nobody cared. When his Mummy came home after her days away she went to look after his Daddy and told Jim off for leaving his toys out. She brought food with her but it was too late. The baby never went hungry. Not once. And Jim resented her for being happy and gargling cheerfully and kicking her chubby feet around. He felt it was a personal insult to be so joyous while he was so miserable. 

“You don’t even know me, Sebastian,” Jim pointed out uncertainly. “You can’t love someone as quickly as that.”

“I can,” Sebastian insisted. “I knew it on the first night you were here.”

Jim fell silent. 

“Prove it,” he said eventually. “Explain.”

“Well, I don’t like most people, see?” Seb said slowly. “And they don’t like me either. People think I’m stupid, which I’m not. I’m actually good at lots of stuff. My writing is really good and they think I’m going to pass my eleven plus. But yeah, they don’t come near me. You came near me though. Remember? You like being around me. And I think you’re brilliant. You’re really smart, even smarter than me and you’re only eight. And you gave me a cuddle, and usually only Dawn does that, and that’s hardly ever anyway.”

It didn’t seem like much of an explanation to Jim, but he nodded his head as though he understood.

“Did your Mummy and Daddy love you, Seb?” he asked quietly, nibbling on his lower lip. 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed with a nod. “My Mummy used to love me a lot. When I was good even Father did. He used to ruffle up my hair when I did good things.” An odd smile was creeping onto Sebastian’s face, an expression entirely alien to Jim. 

“And even though I don’t remember it, my Mummy told me that the day I was born my Father cried. He actually cried. Because he was so happy. But he pretended he wasn’t.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Jim said quietly. He could feel jealousy bubbling under his skin. When he was born his Daddy had just lost his job and nobody was happy. Even his Mummy was scared that they wouldn’t be able to pay the bills.

Sebastian put the rest of Jim’s photos away in the desk drawer. Jim didn’t kick up a fuss so he assumed it was alright. The Irish little boy was curled up on Sebastian’s bed, pouting a bit and looking sulky. Seb went to sit down beside him and draped an arm around his shoulders. 

“I think your Mummy loves you,” Sebastian mumbled comfortingly. “It looked like she was happy in the photo. And she packed all those photographs for you to look at. She even used a ribbon instead of string. And it was in a bow, not a knot”

Jim pulled away, appalled. “I don’t care if she loves me or not,” he hissed fiercely. “I don’t care!”

Sebastian remained calm and nodded his head to appease Jim. He let his hand drop to his lap and then interlocked his own fingers, waiting for Jim to continue or change the subject. 

“Even if she does love me,” Jim began again after a moment, in a thoughtful tone. “Then I don’t love her back.” He looked up to see if he had managed to shock Sebastian again but found the other boy nodding at him in agreement. 

Jim huffed out a breath and then returned to Seb, settling himself on Sebastian’s lap and wrapping the other boy’s arms around him comfortingly. “You always agree,” he hummed. 

“Not always,” Seb murmured back. 

“Most of the time,” Jim amended. “You agree most of the time. Confirm it or deny it.”

Seb smiled slightly at the phrasing and then nodded his head. “Confirm, sir,” he teased, playing the part of a soldier. Jim seemed positively delighted by this. 

“Just with me or with others?” he demanded. 

“Just with you, sir,” Seb said, in the same funny posh voice.

Jim giggled and then relaxed back against Sebastian. He rested his head on Seb’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

“I don’t love you, Sebby,” he informed him quietly. The words hurt Seb a tiny bit but he liked the open honesty of Jim’s voice. Usually he acted a part, but not now.

“That’s okay,” Sebastian told him. He had already decided to love Jim, and if Jim didn’t love him back then that was his choice. So long as they could play together and talk together and stick together, that was all that mattered. 

Jim hummed one of his own little tunes and then sighed. “Maybe I might love you one day,” he said. “Or maybe I already love you now. There’s no way of telling. Well, there’s no way of you telling. Only I know. Inside my head.”

Seb nodded again. Jim was getting playful now, teasing him. 

“But I can tell you a secret if you like?” Jim said, relishing the way Sebastian hung on his every word, listening respectfully, full of hope. 

“Yeah, okay.”

“Out of everyone, everyone here and everyone back in Ireland, and everyone on the television or in books or in magazines, and everyone I walk past on the street, and everyone at school… you’re my very favourite.”

Sebastian blushed crimson and then smiled softly.

“And seeing as I won hide and seek,” Jim drawled, cheering up immensely having had this conversation with his best friend. “I think you owe me.”

“What d’you want?” Seb asked instantly, not commenting on this sudden change of the rules. Instantly agreeing that, yes, Jim deserved something from him. 

“I’ll decide another time,” Jim declared. “You owe me something, but I don’t know what that something is yet. I’m going to keep it until I need it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now we’re going to eat sweets until we feel sick,” Jim decreed, jumping off Seb’s lap and heading for the bag of half eaten pick and mix on the desk. “You can have some cola bottles, but only because you love me. That gets you privileges, see? It means sometimes I’ll be extra nice to you. Only sometimes. And I won’t ever poison you or try to burn you to death, either. I promise.”


	11. Jim's Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim goes too far in winding Bradley up and Sebastian puts his strength and anger to 'good' use.

“How come you’re in here?” Bradley questioned, kicking his useless games console underneath one of the sofas in the living room. His charger had been confiscated by Verity and despite having carefully rationed his game time, the screen was now completely blank, the console unresponsive. 

Jim glanced at Bradley, his gaze settling on the boy’s stupid baseball cap with intense dislike. It had a brand name on the front, but Jim knew it was stolen and fake because Bradley was always coming home with items like this. He’d become accustomed enough to the home to know that within a few days Verity would notice and take the hat away. Then Bradley would sulk and steal more from somewhere. It was an annoying cycle. 

“Same reason as you I’d expect,” Jim mumbled, turning his body away from Bradley and then sucking on the end of his pen, thinking of what to put in his new journal. His counselor, a woman called Jenny, had set him the task of writing and drawing in a diary whenever he felt an emotion. Well right now Jim felt abandoned, frustrated, lonely, irritated and bored. 

‘Seb has gone to see Maggie and has been gone for TWENTY MINUTES’ Jim scrawled in messy biro, scribbling around the outside of the words to express his displeasure at the separation. It was Sebastian’s weekly anger management one on one meeting, and that meant Jim was forced to sit downstairs. He would usually have gone up to his bedroom, but Frank was changing all the sheets upstairs and so the kids weren’t supposed to bother him for another half an hour at least. 

Jim sketched a crude figure of Frank, drawing him as a stick man with long arms and long legs and an arrow pointing to his hair that said ‘ginger’. Then, with a dark glance at the ceiling, began to scribble over his face and stab it with the pen nib. 

“You’re crazy,” Bradley said, having gawped over at Jim during the entire spectacle. The Irish boy didn’t respond and so Bradley tried again. “Yo, Jim. Why’re you stabbing Frank?”

Jim hated Bradley’s voice. He sounded common and like the sort of person who used to hang around his old home in Dublin, throwing beer cans and threatening to set people’s houses on fire. 

“Close your mouth and leave me be,” Jim commanded, in his most scary tone. Bradley looked affronted, scratched at his cheek, and then laughed. 

Jim felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. Nobody was allowed to laugh at him. He hated it. 

The Irish child curled his body into a protective ball, knees drawn up to his chest and then sucked on the skin of his kneecap. He thought deeply for a moment, cheeks red with embarrassment, and then turned back to Bradley, having identified the correct way to upset him and punish him for what he’d done. 

“No wonder your mother didn’t want you,” Jim declared coldly. “You’re a stupid idiot. If I was your mother, I would have drowned you at birth, I expect. Nobody even likes you Bradley. And you smell.”

Bradley gawped at Jim a bit, spluttered, and then narrowed his eyes. Jim might use big words for a kid, but he knew what they meant. Jim was insulting him and his Mum too.

“Don’t you dare insult my Mum!” Bradley exclaimed, feeling slightly pleased at getting to defend her for once. It made him feel closer to her, despite her not having visited him for months. 

“Why not?” Jim fired back, knowing full well he was on dangerous ground, but not ready to stop. “I bet she’s ugly and stinky like you. You chav!”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian was released from his session in quite a positive mood. Maggie had said he was doing well and seemed pleased that he hadn’t beaten anyone up in the past three weeks. There were the swearing incidents to talk about, of course, because swearing was something he had to try and stop, but on the whole, Maggie seemed content. Which was good, because when she was concerned she talked to Verity to try and ‘help’ him further. 

The first thing he saw on walking down the corridor towards the living room to collect Jim, was Bradley, face sweaty, eyes squinting, baseball hat turned around on his head to keep the front part out of his line of vision.

He stopped dead on the spot, narrowed his blue eyes and listened intently. Under the noise of Bradley’s grunts were the altogether more worrying noises of Jim squeaking in horror, of high shrill fear. A call to arms. 

The blond’s nostrils flared and he darted into the room with more speed and agility than someone of his height should rightfully have. 

Jim was on the carpet, scrawny limbs flailing, trying to twist and turn and escape the grip of his captor. Bradley, a much bigger boy, was sitting on Jim, pinning his entire body down flat, hands wrapped around Jim’s pale throat, elbows keeping Jim’s arms from ineffectually slapping at his body. 

The Irish boy had tears in his eyes, looked like he was about to pass out. He was trying not to waste his energy by screaming, trying to preserve his oxygen. He looked scared. He looked little.

Sebastian pulled up his sleeves, saw red. Snarled, growled, grabbed Bradley by the neck, yanked him upwards, threw him into the wall, smacked his head against the plaster, kept on thwacking it against the hard surface until Bradley started to cry with confusion and the wall started to dent, let him go so he slid down the wall and onto the floor, waited a second before yanking at his hair, pulling out a clump, kicking him in the stomach over and over until Bradley was heaving, choking, trying to curl up and protect himself. 

There was nothing else Bradley could do. Sebastian was having one of his turns, and secretly, Bradley feared death or hospitalisation. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want his bones to break. He hadn’t known Jim was off limits. It was usually only Sebastian’s Father. He didn’t know. He was sorry, sorry, sorry…

Last of all, Sebastian gave Bradley a powerful and violent kick to the back of the head which made a sickening cracking noise, before sprawling back, full of adrenaline, panting, wiping his nose, sniffing, snarling at the boy on the ground in front of him, the room spinning, blood throbbing in his ears. 

By the time Frank reached the scene Sebastian had already exploded and done his damage. The care worker dropped the pillowcases he was holding, rushed onto the scene, careful to avoid touching Sebastian, something that could send him spiraling further out of control. Bradley clung to Frank like a baby and started to cry, fat tears of terror and trauma rolling down his cheeks.

Verity arrived next. She glanced down at Jim who was sitting on the carpet, neck red, face too pale, legs crossed neatly, staring up at Sebastian with wide, astounded eyes. 

“Okay…cooler, cooler, cooler, cooler,” Verity breathed, taken aback by the scene before her. She placed a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, not one of comfort, but of control. “Cooler, Sebastian. We’re going to the cooler. I’m going to call Dawn. Cooler, come on.” 

Sebastian hung his head and obediently shuffled away, escorted by Verity. As he passed Jim, the littler boy blinked at him with adoration and blew him a kiss, not able to speak after witnessing the scene. Sebastian just sniffed and did as he was told, fists unclenching because he’d registered Jim, and subconsciously he knew Jim was not a target. Jim was a civilian. Just like in all his army games, there were those you had to kill and those you had to protect. On one list were Jim, Dawn and his Father, on the other, everyone who posed a threat to those three special people, the ones Sebastian had gifted his protection and loyalty. 

As Sebastian sat in the cooler being talked at by Verity, then Maggie, he felt no shame, probably for the first time after an incident. Because he had his own agenda now. He had protected Jim, successfully eliminated the threat to him; Bradley. Nobody touched Jim without his permission. Nobody made him squeak in terror. Jim Moriarty now had the protection of Sebastian Moran. And that was bad news for anyone who wanted to hurt him. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Did he do anything else?” Sebastian asked quietly as he lay in the darkness hours later (his lights out time having been brought forward as one of his many punishments). 

Jim sighed thoughtfully and then began to climb carefully down the ladder towards his friend. Seb watched his pale, odd little feet with interest, watched the way his tiny toes seemed to curl like a monkey around the rungs of the ladder to keep himself secure. 

The Irish boy climbed into Sebastian’s bed with him and lay his head very carefully on Sebastian’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. He wanted his hair played with or his back rubbed, but he didn’t have to say so. Sebastian would simply know that. “Just strangled me and hit me a bit.”

Fingers threading carefully in Jim’s messy dark hair, Seb let out a sigh. “I’m sorry you saw me beat him up,” he breathed, having been ordered to make this particular apology by Verity. He had only just managed to stay in his and Jim’s shared room. Verity seemed to think it appropriate that he stayed by himself tonight, but Maggie, who knew from Sebastian’s counselling sessions that Jim was revered and would be the least likely target in the world, intervened on his behalf. Sebastian had never liked Maggie because she was bossy and patronised him, but in that moment his opinion of her had risen considerably. 

“I loved it,” Jim whispered back, eyes closed with bliss as Sebastian scratched lightly at his scalp. “I’ll probably dream about it tonight. I can’t wait to see it over and over and over…”

Sebastian glanced down at Jim with worried blue eyes, slightly uncertain. “You sure I didn’t scare you?”

The blond knew he wasn’t allowed to reference the way Jim had trembled earlier, and cried and curled up on the bedroom floor. Bradley had shaken him up badly, and Jim was far too little to be hit like that. If it had been his own actions that had caused Jim to slump on the floor, sobbing, then Sebastian wasn’t sure he would have been able to sleep ever again, but he knew that it wasn’t him. Not at all. It was Bradley, that stupid chav who had yanked Jim off the sofa by his feet and shoved him on the ground. It was no wonder Jim was terrified.

“Oh, you did scare me,” Jim told him cheerfully, making Seb suddenly catch his breath. “You definitely did scare me. But I liked it. I liked seeing you explode. Now I know why everyone is afraid of you.”

Sebastian nodded. The logic was odd but did essentially make sense. He knew Jim had a liking for the nasty and the violent, just so long as he wasn’t the victim of the situation. 

“Are you afraid of me?” Seb asked gently, slipping his hand underneath Jim’s green pyjama top so he could rub soothing circles onto his back. Jim’s spine was nice, Seb thought. It jutted out because Jim was so skinny. He ran his fingertip down as much of it as he could reach, feeling the subtle curves and dips against his skin. 

“No,” Jim sighed.

Sebastian nodded again, silently accepting Jim’s opinions, as he always did. Trying to process them carefully and then store them in his brain. He wanted to understand the way Jim thought. He liked being given tiny clues. “Why not?”

For some reason, Jim giggled then. Sebastian placed his palm flat against his back to remind him that Verity would come and check on them if she heard noises. The littler boy squirmed slightly, raised his head and then grinned tiredly at Sebastian, as though he had just won a game, or he was playing cards and had by far the best hand. 

“Becaaaaaaause,” Jim drawled smugly, “I know that if you ever hit me it would hurt you more than it could ever hurt me. So.”


	12. One Year Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's been in Westminster for exactly one year and Sebastian has a present for him.

“You’ve been here exactly one year.”

“How do you know?” asked Jim, yawning and cuddling up to Seb, not quite willing to open his eyes. He hated mornings. In the winter he had made Sebastian bring all his clothes over to the bed so he wouldn’t get cold having to traipse across the room. Sebastian did this without complaint. At night, sometimes Seb woke up because Jim was shivering next to him. Jim looked so little when he was asleep, his expression so much more open than it ever was in the day. It made Sebastian protective. On those nights Sebastian did whatever he could to warm Jim. Quite a few times he climbed the ladder to the top, now unused bunk, and carried the duvet back down with him, carefully swaddling the smaller boy (who barely even stirred throughout) and then holding him as close as possible until Jim’s teeth stopped chattering. 

Seb had complained to Dawn about how cold the room was, and Dawn was shocked that Sebastian, who was notoriously tough and continuously asking Verity if he could spend a night in a tent in the garden to practice for the army, had spoken up about something like that, until she spotted Jim that morning, wearing two of Sebastian’s best hoodies over each other. She, in turn, went to talk to Verity, who said there was nothing she could do about it and that the other children simply got on with it. After all, Sebastian was a robust boy, wasn’t he? And nobody else had complained. When Dawn reported this back to Sebastian the blond’s eyes narrowed uncharacteristically. Because Dawn had been so close and adoring of her own late little brother, she recognized the fierceness and protectiveness in an instant. With her own money she bought a hot water bottle in a teddy bear for Seb (although she knew really that it was for Jim). Sebastian had been so grateful that he blushed crimson. 

“I wrote it in my diary,” Seb confessed, kissing Jim on the top of his head. “Thought it was a special occasion.” 

Jim wriggled and beamed. Him arriving was a special occasion. He was a special occasion. Sebastian made him feel so special. Other people sneered at him or called him a freak or a weirdo. Or they simply ignored him. Sometimes that was the worst thing of all. 

“Do I get a present?” Jim asked, suddenly more alert, his eyes opening halfway (because he could never open them right away in the mornings). 

Sebastian grinned. “Yeah, you get a present.”

Despite his tired body and his sleep-clogged mind, Jim forced himself to sit up, rubbing blearily at his eyes. They were always puffy in the mornings, and he sniffled a lot. Jim suspected a mild problem with his sinuses, but didn’t fancy going to the doctor, so he never mentioned it to anyone. “Where is it?” he demanded. 

“Dawn’s looking after it,” Sebastian revealed, smiling to himself at how pleased Jim looked. It was a proper surprise for him, just as Seb had intended. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The gift was a fairly large chocolate tiger that said: ‘To my wonderful friend, Jim,’ in white icing. Jim’s eyes bulged at the sight of it. 

“All mine?” he demanded. 

“Yeah.”

Jim snatched the tiger from across the kitchen table and began hastily unwrapping the plastic around it with eager fingers, his sharp nails piercing it tactically so the tiger was freed in one simple tear.

“Aren’t you going to thank Seb?” Dawn asked gently, standing back a bit but still observing the situation. “He bought it with his pocket money.”

“I don’t need to thank him,” Jim said, breaking off the tail and shoving it into his mouth with a sigh. “He knows how I feel. He always knows.”

Dawn smiled weakly and then moved out of the room, placing a proud hand on Sebastian’s shoulder as she passed him. She had taken Sebastian to the shops on the way back from Scouts and witnessed the way he pored over the various items, trying to work out exactly how good he could make the present by using the money in his wallet. He’d been saving for a month, just for this. For a moment, as they passed the magazines in the supermarket where they went to find some gravy for dinner, Sebastian’s eyes had fixed longingly on the new superhero comic. But he tore himself away from it with a sigh, patting his pocket and jingling the coins there. Dawn felt certain she had seen him mouth ‘Jim’. 

In the end he’d decided on icing Jim a chocolate animal. Jim wouldn’t care about the message, probably, but Seb thought it would make a good present. The choices of animal were a tiger, a teddy bear or a rabbit. Seb frowned at them all, instantly disregarding the teddy. Jim didn’t like soppy things. And the rabbit looked a bit like a girl with its big eyes and long lashes. Jim hated girls. He sneered at them in school and always said how ugly they were. Tiger it was then. Tigers were fierce and Jim had even called him a tiger once when he’d growled at Bradley. Plus the tail meant more chocolate. 

Sebastian had paid fifteen pounds for the chocolate tiger, and Dawn had even offered to pay half, but he’d declined. He took the gift reverently and held it all the way home, not wanting to chance it breaking. 

Verity and Frank had never particularly taken to Sebastian. They talked about him with great suspicion, as though he was a dangerous animal instead of a child. They didn’t trust him and thought he was bad news because of the fights he got himself into. Dawn couldn’t understand how Frank and Verity, trained professionals in dealing with troubled children, couldn’t spot the almighty kindness hidden under Sebastian’s tough and scarred exterior. With the right guidance Sebastian could be really fantastic. He had a keen mind and a strong ability to empathise. Dawn honestly believed that Sebastian could make it to a good university and achieve very highly indeed. Verity assumed Seb would end up in prison before he hit adulthood. The day she’d voiced that opinion Dawn had left the room with disgust. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“It’s like having two birthdays in the same year,” Jim remarked, sounding very pleased with that fact. He and Sebastian were in the playground at morning break. Jim was sitting on a bench, polishing off the last of his tiger which he’d smuggled into his pocket wrapped in tin foil, and Sebastian was bouncing a little rubber ball up and down, catching it every single time without really having to pay attention to it. 

“It’s not quite as good as my actual birthday, though,” Jim decided, swinging his legs and watching Sebastian, counting in his head how many times Sebastian had dropped and caught the ball. Five hundred and three. Five hundred and four. Five hundred and five…

Jim shoved the last piece of chocolate into his mouth and then sucked on his fingers to make sure he didn’t waste any of it. “My birthday was good, wasn’t it?” Jim said, looking smug but wanting reassurance. 

“Yeah. It was really good,” Seb agreed obediently, finally shoving the ball in his pocket because a teacher was on their way over and he wasn’t supposed to have it in school.

Jim hummed and slumped back on the bench with a grin, remembering the best birthday of his life. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

For Jim’s birthday, Sebastian had bought him a quiz book for fifteen year olds, a packet of chocolate drops and a magazine he’d stolen all about physics and space. It was for adults but Sebastian thought Jim would probably like to read about space travel and constellations. Some nights he and Jim opened the bedroom curtains and sat on the desk, staring out into the darkness and finding patterns in the stars. They wished on aeroplanes that passed by, an idea Sebastian had had after reading one of his books. Jim usually wanted certain pesky people dead or for lots of chocolate to magically come his way. Sebastian never said his wishes out loud. They were always the same. ‘Please keep Jim safe and happy. Don’t ever let him get hurt like I was.’

Verity had bought a cake, although it was supposed to be shared between everyone which meant Jim only got two slices. His and Sebastian’s. Dawn secretly gave Jim a packet of chocolate cupcakes. She left them on his bed (strangely tidy, the duvet unwrinkled) with a tiny note that read: ‘Happy Birthday, Jim! Have a lovely day. Love From Dawn x’ 

Although he had to go to school and the class even had a test, Jim thought it was the best birthday he’d ever had. At break time he made Sebastian ask him questions from the quiz book, and at lunch, he had one of Dawn’s cupcakes and ham sandwiches without crusts. When he got home from school he and Sebastian went for a secret walk around, creeping through a gap in the hedge. It didn’t last very long, because they needed to show their faces at dinner, but it gave Jim a sense of freedom and content. He chattered to Seb about the solar system, praised him for stealing such an item, told Seb he was an idiot for not getting his superhero comic as well. Sebastian never stole for himself. Jim had successfully twisted Sebastian’s moral code, but it was still a work in progress.

At dinner time, Verity left a card on the table and inside were two cinema tickets. He’d had the choice of a party with his school friends, but Jim had declined, so this was his treat instead. It was Dawn who’d suggested it to Verity, knowing there was a spy film Sebastian would like and that Jim would simply enjoy the freedom of being away from the other children. They went on their trip with Dawn two days later, and Dawn bought them both a large tub of popcorn to share. She noticed that Jim ate most of it, but Sebastian was occasionally allowed to dip his hand in and scoop some out for himself. She didn’t comment on it because Sebastian didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

That night he slept in Sebastian’s bunk, where he had taken to sleeping months ago, and Sebastian told him stories about all the people he’d beaten up in the last year. There had been a fair few, seeing as Jim was extremely unpopular at school, and one bad word against Jim guaranteed a punch at the very least. Sebastian was a puzzle to his teachers, because he seemed entirely empathetic, and his grades were consistently high, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from getting into fights and getting sent to the Headmistress. He was polite to adults and helpful in class, and yet more often than not someone would return from lunchtime bloody and bruised. Nobody ever named Sebastian as the culprit, so nothing could be done about it, but his teachers suspected Sebastian of the attacks, after all, he was from a care home, and his notes said that his father had done the very same to him when he was as young as two years old. Mysteriously though, Jim Moriarty could openly insult him in the middle of class and yet never appear hurt. On the contrary he was brighter and more cheerful than ever before. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

As expected, Mr Rafferty confiscated the bouncy ball from Sebastian, which was annoying but didn’t spoil Jim’s day. After all, Sebastian always stole them back from the office in a few days time. 

“I hope you’re putting the work in, Sebastian,” Mr Rafferty said cheerfully, sipping on his coffee and standing annoyingly still next to the boys. Jim thought he was clearly bored and looking for a fight or for someone to belittle. Mr Rafferty was like that. His girlfriend had run away with another lady a few months ago and he’d been grumpy and sarcastic ever since. 

Seb nodded his blond head. “I am, sir,” he said gruffly. This was true. At night, instead of reading the Bible or his comics, Sebastian had taken to writing a short piece of fiction or a fake news report or even a fake review of something. Jim helped him with maths sometimes in the evenings, and Seb was good on his verbal reasoning already. It was just logic, and Sebastian’s mind coped very well with things that could be worked out calmly and methodically. 

“The rate you’re going you’ll be excluded before you can even take the test,” Mr Rafferty remarked nastily. Jim saw him looking over at the girls skipping, hearing one of them say a bad word and deciding whether or not to tell them off just for the fun of it. Unfortunately he didn’t move, deciding he wouldn’t get the pay off. The girls would just be meek and then giggle when he was gone. 

Sebastian didn’t know what to say to that so he just sniffed and looked down at the ground. Jim narrowed his dark eyes at the teacher. 

“Can I ask you a question please, sir?” Jim said mock innocently, tilting his head slightly to one side. 

Mr Rafferty sighed as though he was very put out by the idea. “Indeed you may, James. Do go ahead.” 

Seb gave Jim a nervous glance and wondered what was about to come out of his mouth. There was a moment of silence during which Jim smiled sweetly and curiously. 

“What’s the word for when two ladies love each other?”

Mr Rafferty went pale and then cleared his throat. Clearly he was unsettled now. Sebastian blushed at the question, but couldn’t resist grinning down at the tarmac. When Jim fought, he fought with words, and he always won. 

“Er… lesbians, Jim,” he said quickly, swigging his coffee and looking up to the sky briefly as though praying to God. 

“Thank you, sir,” Jim said. “I’m glad I know that now. Mrs Maxwell says I should improve my vocabulary. “

“Well I can’t imagine you’ll find that word of much use,” Mr Rafferty said testily. He spotted Sebastian’s expression and decided to retreat. “Oh, what are those girls up to?” he said, almost to himself. “That is not a word to be using in school. Girls! Girls!” He shuffled away and Sebastian started laughing. 

“It isn’t funny, you know,” Jim said slowly, his eyes large and watchful. 

Sebastian immediately stopped, knowing Jim’s expression well. He was suddenly serious, patient, ready to obey should he be given an order. 

“When you pass your Eleven plus you’ll have to leave me,” he said after a moment, his face betraying a hint of something Sebastian couldn’t put a name to, as though he wanted to say something else but had decided against it at the last minute. 

“I have to,” Seb said simply, shrugging his shoulders. “And I might not even pass. You know what Mr Rafferty said.”

“You’ll pass,” Jim said with certainty. “You’ll pass and then you’ll leave me. They’re going to put me in another school I expect. One for really clever children. I’m too young for secondary school.” 

“I’m sorry, Jim-“

Jim jumped up and pressed his finger to Sebastian’s cold lips. 

“Don’t be sorry. You have to be clever. Otherwise it will never work.”

Sebastian didn’t ask exactly what it was Jim wanted to work. If Jim didn’t say something explicitly, you simply had to wait until he was ready to reveal his information. 

Jim removed his finger from Seb’s lips. “Kiss it,” he ordered. Sebastian instantly obeyed kissing Jim’s finger lightly. It meant Jim was forgiving him for leaving, and that Sebastian was sorry for having to go. It was much better than words. 

“One day it will all be worth it, you’ll see,” Jim said cryptically, a tiny smile appearing on his face. “Just you wait, Sebby. I’m going to make us so happy. We’ll be better than everyone.”


	13. Punishing Sebastian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is struggling to come to terms with Sebastian leaving him to go to secondary school.

Sebastian was to begin secondary school after the summer holidays. Dawn was thrilled for him, Verity skeptical, and Jim left feeling really rather betrayed. 

He’d anticipated Seb’s good marks of course, he wasn’t stupid, but as the time of his best friend moving on without him drew nearer, Jim couldn’t help but feel a spike of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, a desperate churn of ‘don’t leave me’ that nobody could hear. 

As a result, in what should have been one of the happiest and most triumphant summers of his life, Sebastian had to deal with a sulky, spiteful Jim, suddenly surging from one extreme to the other. One minute he’d be adoring, the next furious, the next he’d ignore Sebastian entirely. 

Jim, who now had no reason to maintain the façade of merely ‘clever’, allowed himself to shoot right up to genius level in everyone’s eyes and almost instantly won a scholarship at the most prestigious school in the area. His own ‘triumph’ was not celebrated. For one, Verity disliked Jim, and then there was the fact that on the day of the news Jim had declared that anyone who so much as mentioned it again would have their hands chopped off. He’d been given a stern talking to by Verity, who believed that Sebastian’s influence was making the little boy more violent in his thoughts and words. 

Sebastian didn’t think he had ever felt worse than on those days when Jim wouldn’t speak to him. At nights, Jim still cuddled up to him in bed, but there was no talking and Sebastian ended up feeling like an object, only there to keep Jim warm but not worthy of any attention. Like the hot water bottle Dawn had bought them in the winter. 

One night, Sebastian had woken up with a sharp grunt, cheek stinging. But Jim had his eyes closed beside him and the blond had told himself he’d dreamed the pain up. It disturbed him because it reminded him of when he was little. He could take a lot of pain if it was in a face to face scenario, a noble one. If he could anticipate getting hurt it was no problem to him. He even wore the bruises he won in fights proudly. Most of the time those fights were in defence of Jim or his name. Sebastian liked to think of himself as a knight, protecting his king. 

In reality, Jim had been awake for hours, just staring at Sebastian’s troubled, sleeping face. His large eyes were round in the darkness as they flickered all over Sebastian’s features. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to run the tip of his finger along Sebastian’s nose, and then over Sebastian’s slightly parted chapped lips, trailing right down over his chin and then his neck which was a bit bumpy in the middle. Sebastian’s jaw was getting more noticeable now. It made him look very heroic, Jim thought. His own face was all soft and smooth, but Seb’s was starting to get very distinct. That only made Jim feel more angry, even though he knew deep down that it wasn’t Sebastian’s fault. His best friend could not stop himself from growing up even if he wanted to.

After a while, Jim couldn’t contain his rage any longer. He glared at Sebastian’s handsome face, raised his hand, and then brought it down as hard as he could on the blond’s cheek, making a satisfying sharp noise and even stinging his own palm. As soon as he’d done so he placed his hand back on Sebastian’s chest and closed his eyes, expertly feigning sleep. His friend was none the wiser. Sebastian stirred for a bit, but fell asleep again quickly enough. When Jim tentatively cracked open one of his brown eyes again, Seb’s expression had changed. He was frowning in sleep and his lips were tightly pressed together. There was a beautiful red patch on Sebastian’s cheek. Good, Jim thought. Served Seb right.

At breakfast time, Jim still waited for Sebastian to cut the crusts off his toast for him (something Verity tutted at) before scooting down the table to go and sit beside Chloe. Jim didn’t like Chloe very much, but she was a natural born troublemaker and it was entertaining to listen to her insulting people. Whenever he looked up at Sebastian, his friend’s head was bowed as he ate silently. 

Dawn asked Sebastian if the boys had had a little tiff, but Seb shook his head loyally. He didn’t want Dawn to think badly of Jim. He didn’t want anyone to think badly of him. 

But far, far more worrying than being ignored, was when Jim decided to go on hunger strike. He refused to eat for two days and only ended his strike when Verity told him that if he didn’t eat something soon, she’d take him to the hospital and they’d feed him through a drip. Jim despised hospitals. They smelled funny and the people there were disgusting. Plus he wouldn’t be able to stay with Sebastian. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep on his own in a hospital bed. 

Throughout his protest, Sebastian had pleaded with Jim to eat something. On the second afternoon, feeling desperate, Sebastian even offered to punch Bradley in the face if Jim had some dinner. The offer was tempting, but Jim was extremely stubborn. He wasn’t going to let Sebastian get away with things that easily. 

Not eating felt nice at times, Jim thought. It made him feel weak and strange, leaving his head light and untroubled by his usual buzzing thoughts. His limbs felt too heavy, his arms swinging by his sides, and he wanted to sleep a lot. He felt as though he were in a dream and nobody could touch him. But it wasn’t so nice when his stomach began to hurt and rumble. He got aches and pains and a headache, and his hands shook when he tried to write. The worst part was when he wanted Sebastian to hold him and make him feel better, but he couldn’t because he was refusing to talk to the blond. It was a point of pride. 

Jim’s stubbornness had trapped the pair of them in an difficult situation. No matter what Sebastian did or said, Jim would not relent. As far as he was concerned, Sebastian going to grammar school wasn’t something to be celebrated. He believed Seb deserved to be punished for leaving him. And what better way to punish him than hurting himself?

All Jim’s life he had tried to hurt himself to make people pay attention to him. Back in Dublin, he’d tried to hang himself in the bathroom with his Daddy’s tie, but it didn’t work and nobody even noticed what had happened. He’d once tried to drown himself because he wanted his Mummy to look after him instead of his father and the baby. When he was in the bath, he let himself slip beneath the water and tried to breathe in. That didn’t work either, because despite Jim trying to stay under the water, his body pushed him up again and he spluttered and cried until his breathing went back to normal. After that bath he’d been in trouble for splashing and getting water on the bathroom floor.

He had fully intended to starve himself half to death to make Sebastian feel sorry, but the plan couldn’t work. The situation was unique because Seb already did pay attention to him and care about him. And then there were Verity and Frank, who ruined his plans by threatening him with the hospital. 

All this only served to make Jim feel more helpless than ever before, even more than when he was little and nobody came to help him when he cried. He was trapped in the body of a nine year old, and soon Sebastian was going to be a man. Seb wouldn’t want him then. He would make new friends, maybe even find a girlfriend. Jim knew all about that from the videos they had shown the class in school. When boys hit puberty they started to like things like kissing. Jim thought the idea of kissing a girl was so foul that it made him shudder, but he knew Sebastian was different to him. Maybe he would like that? It was impossible to tell. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Meanwhile, Verity was growing ever more suspicious of Sebastian. She had never liked him, not even when he first arrived at five years old. For some reason, unknown to Verity, Dawn had instantly taken to the shy blonde child. Although Sebastian had refused to talk to anyone, and cried whenever anybody tried to touch him, Dawn had been his exception, the only person he allowed to hug him and make him food. Despite knowing exactly why Sebastian hid from adults and wouldn’t speak to anyone, Verity didn’t make any allowances for him. She knew how to deal with children who made a fuss, and that was by being firm. Although she sympathised with Sebastian’s situation, which was something no child should ever have to go through, especially at such a young age, she was determined to do things the ‘proper’ way, and that meant following rules by the book. Sebastian would have to get used to being in contact with people eventually, and that would happen with exposure, not by letting him continue his little tantrums. 

In a meeting with Dawn, at the very end of Jim’s hunger strike, Verity decided to voice her concerns. For a long while now she’d been keeping a cold eye on Sebastian and Jim, and there was something not quite right about their friendship.

“I don’t think they should be roommates anymore,” Verity said, sitting behind her wooden desk in the meeting room, Dawn sitting across from her on a cheap, plastic chair. “Jim is getting worse than ever. His psychologist says he is still displaying early onset BPD and depression.”

Dawn nodded, her expression calm but determined. “And what’s this got to do with Seb?” she asked gently, tilting her head slightly to one side. A wisp of blonde hair fell away from her ponytail and brushed her face. 

“I think Sebastian may be bullying him,” Verity revealed, shuffling papers because she knew that Dawn disliked it when Sebastian was spoken badly of. It was very unprofessional, in Verity’s opinion, but Dawn was extremely well liked by the children, probably because she was young and fairly pretty, so she couldn’t be moved on somewhere else. She wasn’t particularly intelligent, and deep down Verity felt jealousy that the children had taken to her, despite her not having any real qualifications.

“Sebastian isn’t a bully,” Dawn said instantly, her tone not argumentative, but firm. “I realise he’s been involved in some fights recently, and he’s been punished for those incidents, but he isn’t that sort of person. The fights he gets into are two way. He never hides it, does he? He’s honest. He admits when he’s done something wrong.”

Verity clicked her tongue against her teeth. She glanced at the smiley face clock on her desk and then back at Dawn. 

“Even so, I think he’s a bad influence on Jim. Have you noticed the violent language Jim’s been using?”

“Yes, but that’s probably nothing to do with-“

“I’m going to separate them,” Verity cut in, an air of finality to her voice. “And I’m going to encourage Jim to find a friend his own age.”

Dawn sighed and then looked down at the ground. 

“I think Sebastian going to a different school is enough of a separation,” Dawn said carefully. 

Verity leaned back in her chair and then nodded slowly. “I haven’t got the space to put them in separate bedrooms yet, but I’m going to as soon as I can shuffle things around. Sebastian’s about to hit puberty. He shouldn’t be sharing with a child like Jim.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Dawn asked after a long moment. She felt extremely irritated by Verity’s attitude towards the situation. Despite not being qualified in children’s mental health the way Verity was, to Dawn the issue was very simple. Sebastian wasn’t the cause of the problem, in fact, he was a buffer for it. Jim could be perfectly well behaved when he wanted to impress Sebastian, and Dawn realised how much Sebastian cared for the younger boy. Why rob Sebastian of a sibling? The poor boy was lonely enough as it was, without taking away his only friend. Verity was determined to see Sebastian as a bad influence on Jim, but Dawn knew at first hand that Sebastian could also be an extremely good influence on him. She had often heard them chattering together, Jim sounding almost happy despite his mental illness. Nobody else seemed to be able to make Jim feel so positively about the world.

“I just want you to keep an eye on things,” Verity said vaguely. “Don’t say anything to them, because I don’t want a scene.”

“Alright,” Dawn agreed with reluctance. 

“Sebastian isn’t the saint you think he is,” Verity said coldly as Dawn stood up to leave. Dawn stopped in her tracks and looked Verity dead in the eyes. 

“I don’t think he’s a saint,” she said, trying very hard to keep her voice in check. She didn’t want to lose her job. “I think he’s a lonely boy with a good heart and a bright future ahead of him. I think he’s doing incredibly well to-“

“Favoritism isn’t professional in this business,” Verity said, now picking up her clock and fixing the time according to her wristwatch. “We have to be impartial for this to work.”

“Yes,” Dawn shot back, before she could stop herself. “But we also have to be kind. Cheers, Verity. I’ll take what you’ve said on board.” Without a second glance Dawn left the room, wondering how she could keep such a huge and devastating secret from the boy she’d come to think of as a sibling. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“I am sorry, Jim,” Sebastian insisted earnestly as Jim very slowly ate a handful of grapes given to him by Frank to keep him healthy. 

(“Nice easy food,” Frank had said cheerfully. Grapes were what they gave to Carly when she couldn’t eat sometimes, or when she started crying when dinner was put in front of her. )

Jim continued to pop the grapes into his mouth one by one, not looking at Sebastian, just staring off into space. His hands were still shaking and he felt sick. After not eating for so long, the food hurt his throat and stomach. 

“But there’s nothing I can do. I have to go to school. You said so yourself. You told me I needed grades.”

The nine year old glanced up at Sebastian, finally honouring him with his attention. He ate another grape and then shivered as it went down his throat. It made him feel as though he’d failed at his protest. 

“I was going to do something awful,” Jim revealed quietly, holding out the grapes in his hand. Sebastian understood what Jim wanted, and decided to make a compromise. He wasn’t going to eat the food for him, but he could share if it made Jim feel better. 

“Cheers,” Sebastian mumbled as he ate a grape. “What d’you mean by awful?”

Jim sighed and picked up a grape between his finger and thumb. He shoved it into Sebastian’s mouth, making a point. 

“Throw myself down the stairs, probably,” Jim admitted with a yawn. 

Sebastian’s blue eyes widened with horror. “Jim,” he said quickly, trying to get his attention properly. “Jim, you wouldn’t actually do that though, would you?”

Jim glared at the last grape and then ate it, swallowing it in one disgusted gulp, looking deeply relieved that the whole ordeal was over. 

“Jim? You wouldn’t, would you?” Sebastian grabbed Jim by his bony shoulders and gave him a gentle shake until the younger boy was glaring at him ferociously. 

“Of course I would,” he said easily. “And you’re hurting. Stop. Now.”

Sebastian dropped his hands from Jim’s shoulders, looking extremely concerned. “Why? Why would you do it?”

Jim yawned again and then narrowed his eyes at Sebastian, wondering if he was being mocked or not. He was surprised to see the honest confusion in Sebastian’s eyes. “You haven’t noticed?” he asked curiously. 

“Noticed what?”

The Irish boy grinned, laughing weakly. So he hadn’t noticed yet. That was good. As long as Sebastian didn’t realise that he was starting to turn into a man then Jim wouldn’t drop the bombshell. Sebastian’s voice hadn’t got low properly yet, and until that happened, Jim would refuse to believe the change was happening. He would deny reality for as long as he possibly could. 

Sebastian sighed with relief as Jim chuckled, laughing a bit nervously as well. “You won’t do it though, will you?” 

Jim stood up from the kitchen table and kissed Sebastian on the cheek. “Not unless I have to.”


	14. Sebastian's First Day at Secondary School (Jim's Perspective)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Sebastian's first day at Secondary school and Jim is forced to have the day off alone.

Sebastian’s school term began in early September. Seb claimed he wasn’t nervous, because he wasn’t scared of anything, but the night before his first day Jim had felt Seb shivering in the darkness.

“It’s okay,” he whispered protectively, copying what Seb always said to him when he woke up crying after a nightmare, or just because he felt so sad. “You’ll be wonderful, Sebby. And you look very handsome in your new uniform.”

That brought a tentative smile to Sebastian’s face. It was true though, Jim thought. He wasn’t one to give compliments unless he meant them or wanted something from somebody, which he didn’t from Sebastian because he already gave him everything he wanted of his own free will. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Seb’s new uniform consisted of smart black trousers, a crisp white shirt, a black blazer with the school emblem sewn onto the top left pocket, and best of all (in Jim’s opinion) a stripy tie, green and blue. Sebastian had put it on for him and Dawn earlier, just to make sure everything fit properly, and Jim had fallen completely silent with awe. Sebastian looked like a man, but in a good way. He looked pretty like the men in Viv’s clothes magazines (which Jim liked to steal glances at whenever the teenager left one lying about), maybe even prettier than them. He looked strong and powerful, but that was okay because Jim knew how gentle he was really. He knew that he could click his fingers and the blond would do whatever he was told. Instead of feeling threatened by Sebastian’s power, Jim relished the idea of owning such a person. Nobody would dare mess with a boy like Sebastian, and that meant they wouldn’t dare mess with him either. They’d be forced to take him seriously, else Sebastian would kill them. 

“You look brilliant,” Dawn had declared encouragingly, taking the other white shirts out of the packet and putting them on hangers. “Doesn’t he, Jim?”

“Yes. Very brilliant,” Jim agreed with reluctance (because he didn’t like to agree with adults). He blinked at Sebastian and thought that ‘brilliant’ was a good description for only one word. It meant luminous, and bright, and dazzling. Seb was all of those things. But the best part was he didn’t know it. It was like a secret, a special secret Jim was keeping all to himself. Nobody else seemed to notice how brilliant Sebastian was, apart from Dawn who didn’t count, and he wasn’t going to give them any hints about it. The less people that realised, the more Seb would need him. Seb couldn’t ever be allowed to need anyone else.

Sebastian had blushed to the tips of his ears and then somehow the three of them had all started laughing together. For a tiny but Jim had even liked Dawn. They had turned to each other in a moment of happiness and shared nervousness and excitement, and their eyes had met. Jim was stunned by the feeling it gave him. People around him were properly laughing, but they weren’t laughing at him. They were laughing with him. Even checking to see if he found it funny too and felt the same. Jim wondered if that was what it felt like to have friends, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Dawn wasn’t a friend, she was a stupid adult who looked a bit like a whale but was pretty enough to make Jim feel a little bit angry whenever he saw Seb smile at her. Still, she cared about Seb and he supposed that was the main thing. He would permit it for now.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“What if I’m not smart enough after all?’ Seb continued quietly. His heart was beating very fast so Jim placed his palm over it and stroked the material of Seb’s pyjama top gently. The blond took a few deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm. Jim could feel how his chest rose and fell as his lungs filled up with air and let it all go again. He liked thinking about the insides of things. It was exciting to think that there was a skeleton hiding inside Sebastian, and one inside him as well. Humans were very fragile things, and Jim knew that he could kill one easily if he wanted. Sometimes he imagined killing Seb, not for real, but just for pretend. Because Seb probably wouldn’t expect it, and everyone else didn’t trust him enough to leave themselves vulnerable around him. Seb trusted Jim so much that he fell asleep with him every night. That was the biggest trust you could give someone, Jim thought. But Jim wasn’t going to kill him. Killing Seb meant not seeing him again, and he certainly didn’t want that, even if the idea of putting a pillow over his face while he slept, just to feel him struggle, was an exciting one. 

“Shhh,” Jim hushed. “You are clever enough. If you weren’t clever then I would hate you. But I don’t.”

“You think they’ll like me?” Seb asked lowly, blue eyes blinking up at the mattress of Jim’s bunk through the bars separating the two beds. 

Jim chuckled a bit. Seb was so funny, wanting people to like him. He didn’t understand why he’d want any of the disgusting normal people anywhere near him. “Liking doesn’t matter,” Jim whispered, as though departing great wisdom. A smile was creeping onto his features because Sebastian needed his reassurance, probably in order to get to sleep. “Remember what I said to you? About how you have to make yourself as brainy as you can?”

Seb nodded his head with a grunt of, “Yeah.”

“Being popular won’t make you brainy. And you have a job to do. You have to make sure you listen really carefully and that way one day you might even be clever enough to talk to me like an equal.”

Sebastian was far from offended by this comment. He knew that Jim was much smarter than him. And he wanted to be clever for Jim. He really did. “I’ll try,” he mumbled.

“Good boy,” Jim yawned, moving his head off the pillow and placing his cheek very carefully on Seb’s shoulder. “Now stop shaking, otherwise I shan’t be able to sleep.”

Strangely enough, that incentive worked. Sebastian took some more deep breaths and gradually he began to calm down. He could feel Jim’s breath on his neck, and it kept his mind off things for a while, just long enough for him to slip into a doze.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian ate a few bites of toast on his first morning, smiling weakly for Dawn, who had taken that shift specifically to be around for the big occasion, but otherwise kept his head down. He was worried that showing emotion might make him seem vulnerable in front of the other children and that could lead to attack. But he needn’t have worried. Chloe declared cheekily that Seb was ‘sexy’, a word she was trying out for the first time to see if it got a reaction. She was sent away from the breakfast table in disgrace for her efforts. It lightened the mood though, and it calmed Seb to have people laughing, not at him, but with him. Even Bradley said ‘good luck’, which was surprising, but nice too. 

Jim stuck to Seb’s side like glue, loyal and fierce, holding his hand under the table and glaring so ferociously at Chloe’s audacity that the little girl felt his furious gaze on her back as she trotted off down the corridor. He couldn’t eat breakfast because his stomach felt funny, but he drank some orange juice just so Seb wouldn’t worry about him being unhealthy. Sometimes Seb worried when he refused his food and only drank chocolate milkshake. Sebastian was strange like that. He was very into healthy eating, which Jim thought was a foul concept that would never catch on. 

Just before Sebastian went to leave with Dawn, Jim tugged his best friend into the empty television room and gave him a tight hug, clinging to him with his eyes closed, almost toppling Sebastian over with the sheer force of it. 

“You know how I said I’d hate you if you weren’t clever?” he whispered breathlessly, feeling Seb’s nerves as strongly as though they were his own. 

Seb winced, nodding, fearing a confirmation of this. 

“Well, you are clever. So I think the opposite.”

Dawn had to whisk Seb away then, only just catching the hug, which broke up swiftly the moment the two boys heard the door opening. Seb was in such a rush not to be late that he only realised once he was in the car and driving off, what Jim meant. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim had the day off because his school didn’t start until October. He spent most of his day in the bedroom, looking through Sebastian’s things.

He went for the shelf first, where Sebastian’s green army people held guns and shouted to each other and looked brave and daring, and not at all what Jim imagined people in a real war would look like. Jim thought it would be a lot more scary and dangerous with lots of blood and bullets and dead bodies everywhere, like on the news. He picked up each army man in turn, holding them between his thumb and forefinger and examining them, before putting them carefully back in their original positions. It wasn’t that Sebastian would mind him looking, Jim knew almost all of Sebastian’s possessions were his to use as well. It was more that Jim didn’t want Seb to think he had taken an interest. He thought they were silly.

Sebastian’s book collection was next on Jim’s agenda. At first, Jim went for the oldest and most impressive looking book. It seemed quite old and had a French title. When he opened it he recognised some of the names and realised that this was the King Arthur story that Sebastian enjoyed so much. He tried to read some of it, picking passages at random, but it all seemed like awful rubbish to him. The language was old and boring, and nothing happened properly. Jim looked at the first page, with the publication information on it, and spotted a neatly printed name in pencil on the the top right hand corner. It said ‘Eleanor Dereham Age 12’. So that was why Sebastian liked it so much. Jim hadn’t known it was anything to do with his mother. It explained why Seb always said it was his favorite and yet never seemed to touch it.

After a few army books and guides about the Scouts, Jim ran his finger over the spines of the Narnia series. Seb had the whole collection and was very proud of it. Apparently the set was a birthday present from Dawn, although she admitted they were second hand and so not in the best condition. Sebastian had read Jim the one about the lion and the wardrobe over a month quite a while ago. It wasn’t as awful as Jim had been expecting, but he still didn’t think he’d like to read it again. The best part was imagining himself as naughty Edmund, and Sebastian as noble Peter. The only problem was that Edmund was the one with the blond hair. If it had been the other way around it would have been perfect. Apart from the girls. Lucy was okay, but Susan made him cross. She just told everyone what to do all the time, like a grownup, even though she wasn’t one. When Sebastian read to him he even did the voices sometimes, if Jim promised not to giggle too loudly and alert Verity to their alternative sleeping arrangements. His best one was Aslan the lion, because he made his voice a bit growly but also wise.

Last of all there was Sebastian’s current library book. Frank drove them all down to the library once a month to choose one each and they were allowed to keep them for up to eight weeks if they wanted. Jim despised reading from the section for children. What he liked were the big, adult, science books, and the maths textbooks for GCSE that explained all sorts of complicated equations. He wasn’t allowed to ever pick one of those, though, because his library card was a green kids’ one, so he could only choose from that one boring section. Still, his choice didn’t go to waste. He decided on a book that Sebastian might like, one about pirates with lots of sword fighting and pillaging. Jim hoped it might encourage Sebastian to become more relaxed with criminal and sinful behaviour. The Irish boy was still carefully conditioning his friend and was hoping, ultimately, to get him to ditch God and pick him instead. The pirate book was underneath Sebastian’s pillow though, because he read it at night before he had to turn his light out. The one Jim was looking at was all about a World War Two soldier. The man on the cover looked dirty and disgusting, so Jim didn’t bother to look any further into it. Jim couldn’t understand why any person would want to be in the army. Even though he knew wars now weren’t as bad as World War Two because nobody forced you into them and there wasn’t so much disease and soldiers didn’t go hungry, you could still get shot or blown to bits. Not to mention that you had to stay with other people and they didn’t wash much. Jim had privately decided that he wasn’t allowing Sebastian to join, but he hadn’t told his friend yet. It was kinder that he didn’t know for now.

Last of all (because his stomach was rumbling), Jim looked through Sebastian’s Scouts certificates and badges. He couldn’t personally see why Seb enjoyed it so much, because it all seemed very dull. Sebastian could apparently do lots of odd things, like camp in the garden, light a fire, and tie knots. All very silly, but Jim supposed those things could come in handy one day. Maybe if they ran away together? Jim often dreamed about running away with Sebastian so no adults ever had to tell them what to do ever again, but he didn’t think Seb would like the idea. He liked Dawn too much and would worry about him getting ill or cold or something like that. Jim supposed money was a real barrier as well. Besides, where could they go? Not back to Ireland, because Ireland was horrible and Sebastian liked hot weather best, he’d told Jim that when they were laying in the garden together, Seb throwing a football up and down above him, catching it right before it hit his face every time. Jim resolved to think about the issue.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

He ate his lunch at the kitchen table with Dawn. Usually he would have told her to go away, but she had made him a nice sandwich and given him a chocolate biscuit and Jim was worried about Sebastian. He didn’t exactly say so, but his eyes kept glancing at the door, even though he knew Sebastian would be gone for hours still. 

“I bet he’s having the time of his life,” Dawn said gently, seemingly reading his mind. Jim didn’t like to think Sebastian was having that much fun, so he made a face and sucked the chocolate off his fingers one by one. 

“He’ll enjoy it,” Dawn continued, thinking the expression had been one of doubt and concern. “It will give him a chance to get some of his frustrations out as well, I hope. He’s a lot brighter than anyone gave him credit for at your school.”

“I gave him credit for it,” Jim interjected slightly sulkily, because the idea of Sebastian having a whale of a time and making new friends made his head hurt. 

Dawn smiled at him warmly. “Very true,” she agreed, starting on a packet of crisps. Jim didn’t think a big person like Dawn should be allowed to eat nice things like cake and crisps and chocolate. She was far too large already. 

“Oh, and don’t worry,” she said quickly, with an oblivious smile, thinking Jim was eyeing the crisps because he didn’t want his favourites to run out. “These are just the cheese and onion ones. Nobody likes them. They’re from the multipack. There’s three salt and vinegar left and Frank’s shopping tonight”

Jim sighed and nodded his head. He decided he wouldn’t call Dawn names today, seeing as she was Sebastian’s second best friend, probably. And she was okay for a grownup. 

“How old are you?” Jim asked suspiciously. 

“I’m twenty two,” Dawn responded good naturedly. She didn’t get stressed out the way Verity did when she got asked the same question a while ago by Chloe. 

“Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? Or neither?”

“Neither,” Dawn said, looking slightly bemused but still showing Jim she was taking him seriously. 

“What do you think of age gaps?” Jim asked, suddenly making use of this non-sarcastic, adult opinion on something he’d been wondering about for a little while. 

“Age gaps in relationships?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think it matters a great deal. I suppose it depends on how large the gap is. A few years is quite normal. More than ten is unusual, but who knows, eh? You can’t help falling in love.”

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

Dawn laughed and nodded her head. She wasn’t really supposed to talk to the kids about her personal life, but she couldn’t see the harm in it. “I have indeed.”

“And how can you make someone fall in love with you?”

“You can’t. That’s why relationships can be so difficult. You have to find two people who really like each other, or it doesn’t work.”

“But you could persuade them, couldn’t you? You could convince them they loved you?”

“I don’t think you could, no,” Dawn said gently, still looking extremely bemused but fighting back a wide smile. She knew well enough how careful you had to be with Jim. He got offended very easily and flared up at the slightest hint that someone might be laughing at him. 

“You could hypnotise them,” Jim suggested, his voice more open than he ever usually allowed it to be around anyone other than Sebastian. “Or teach them a different meaning of the word ‘love’ so that they thought they were.”

Dawn wondered which little girl Jim had his eye on. It was clear to her that he wanted somebody to be in love with him, and they currently weren’t. Poor Jim, she thought. He was so little anyway that people probably thought he was younger than he was. But he would be ten next year, so it made sense that he should be experiencing his first crush. 

“I think the best thing to do is to be kind,” Dawn suggested lightly. “Being friendly is always a good thing. And compliments are a good idea. Girls like compliments.”

Jim scoffed suddenly and then screwed his features up in disgust. “Yuck, yuck, yuck!” he burst out with great repulsion. “I don’t care what girls like! You’re stupid!”

Dawn watched Jim carefully and then nodded her head. She was supposed to make him leave the room when he insulted someone for no reason, but that was difficult when she sensed he may well need to talk some more. That outburst had been very telling. Dawn couldn’t help the slight stunned expression her face took on as she processed everything Jim had said. 

“When does Sebastian’s stupid school end?” Jim demanded crossly, reaching out and helping himself to a second chocolate biscuit, not caring that he was right in front of Dawn. She could hardly stop him once he’d eaten it, could she? And anyway, she wasn’t so stupidly obsessed with rules the way Verity was. 

“Normal time, I think,” the blonde said gently, watching Jim with soft curiosity. 

“Well I’m bored,” Jim remarked, scoffing the biscuit quickly just in case Dawn did attempt to take it away from him. “This whole month will be boring. I hate it already.”

“Because Sebastian won’t be here?”

Jim rolled his eyes dramatically. “Well obviously. There’s no point otherwise.” 

“No point in what?”

“Anything at all. Doofus.”


	15. Sebastian's First Day at Secondary School (Seb's Perspective)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb meets some potential new friends and Jim isn't happy about it.

Sebastian travelled to school in silence, not able to say a single word. He had a lump in his throat and he couldn’t raise his head to even look out of the window. He kept his eyes glued on his lap where his hands were held tightly together for comfort. He kept on pinching his thumbs to remind himself that he was a brave, strong man and he wasn’t scared of anything. His Father wouldn’t be scared by his first day at school. Sebastian imagined Augustus had been cool, calm and composed, 

People didn’t initially know he was from a care home, because Dawn had ironed his clothes neatly and driven in using Frank’s car. Sebastian supposed people that saw him leave the car, with an encouraging pat on the arm from Dawn, must have thought Dawn was his big sister. That filled him with pride, enough pride to raise his head and not shuffle towards the entrance, but walk like his father did, like he owned the world. 

The tactic seemed to work, because when he entered the main hall, full of nervous chattering children, the boys looked at him with a mixture of respect and instant acceptance. They even glanced away when he walked past them, a sign of fear. Sebastian suddenly remembered how tall he was, and the way he was sauntering, and the bruise still on his cheek from a recent fight with Bradley. He must look tough. Because the other children didn’t know that he was nervous inside. They couldn’t tell that he was making a huge effort to keep his head up as he walked, and that he wanted Jim. All they saw was a confident, scary boy. The type that belonged at the top of the food chain. 

Sebastian sat down by himself on one of the wooden stairs at the bottom of the school stage, and it wasn’t long before he was approached by a bouncy sort of girl, a boy in her wake with light brown almost chestnutty hair that was slightly too long. 

“Can we sit here?” the girl asked, looking as though she had made her mind up about it already. She sat down confidently without waiting for an answer and then grinned at Seb. 

“Are they going to keep us in here forever? Look at everyone. Nervous little mice.”

Her accent was rich and melodic, but Sebastian couldn’t quite place it. She was definitely foreign though. 

“I’m nervous, Soph,” the boy said earnestly, earning himself a little huff of disapproval. Sebastian glanced at the pair and noticed the way they were sitting, with no space between them. They must have been friends already. 

“I’m Jack, by the way,” the boy revealed, holding out his hand in a gentlemanly manner. Sebastian looked at it and then shook it firmly. “And this is Sophie.”

“I can speak for myself, Newt,” Sophie told him, shooting Sebastian another confident grin, rolling her eyes. “Sophie Kratides. The accent is Greek, before you ask. Everyone wants to but they get scared I’ll be offended. Newt took three whole weeks to ask me.”

“Right. Hello,” Sebastian mumbled, his low voice making Sophie laugh without malice.

“See,” she remarked carelessly, elbowing Jack in the side. “I told you he’d be tough.”

“Why are you called Newt?” Sebastian plucked up the courage to ask, shifting a little where he sat, very aware he might look odd if he didn’t try to get involved in the conversation. His counselor said he had to try his best to push through the wall in his mind that separated him from others. If he acted confident then the rest would follow. Even if his stomach was twisting with nerves. 

“Newton. Jack Newton. Sophie made it up,” Newt informed Seb cheerfully. 

“And you?” Sophie demanded. 

Sebastian raised his head a bit to look her in the eye, and then Newt. “I’m Sebastian. Sebastian Moran.”

Sophie glanced at Newt knowingly and then nodded her head conspiratorially. “You sound like the sort of man we need.”

“W-what?”

“We decided we wanted a tough friend. Newt can’t even beat me in an arm wrestle. He couldn’t beat Lucy Carter.”

“That’s a girl from our old school,” interjected Newt helpfully. 

Sophie beamed, her eyes lighting up with the thrill of a contest. “Want to try your luck? If I win you have to stick with me and Newt all day.”

“But you’re a girl-“

Sophie made another hissing noise and then sighed. “I’ve taken down tons of boys before.”

“Both of her brothers too,” said Newt again, sounding like he was still deeply impressed by the event. 

“Older or younger?” Sebastian found himself asking, not really sure why he did.

“Both older,” Sophie informed him smugly. “Fifteen and twelve.”

“Do you have a brother then?” Newt asked, noticing Sebastian’s sudden interest.

“Er… no, at least I don’t think so.”

“How can you not know that?” Sophie scoffed, shifting back to giver herself more space. “Brothers are a pain in the backside. You’d know if you had one, trust me.”

Newt gave Sophie a look and she shut up, rolling up her sleeves all the same and getting ready for her challenge. 

“Well I’m… I’m from a care home,” Seb mumbled, his voice so low and small it was barely audible. He wasn’t even sure why he’d told them that. They might think he was a freak and leave him alone. But somehow, something inside Sebastian was hopeful. 

“Oh dear,” Newt said uncomfortably. “How come, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Took me away from my parents,” Seb mumbled again, this time with a nonchalant shrug. “Took me when I was four. Been living in the home for most of my life.”

“Is it a nice one? Do they treat you well?” Newt inquired carefully, a real note of concern and compassion in his voice. 

Sebastian glanced at Sophie, who grinned at him, obviously aware of her friend’s over emotional disposition. She was clearly fond of him though, and to be honest, Seb could see why. He seemed naturally gentle and kind. Not threatening in the slightest, and not an arrogant know-it-all as his accent seemed to suggest. 

“Yeah, they treat me fine,” Seb said eventually. “My best mate stays there with me, so it’s not so bad.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Newt said, sounding deeply relieved. “What’s your friend like?”

“Newt, you sound like you’re interviewing a criminal,” Sophie cut in. “He hasn’t stolen the crown jewels, my God, you do make me laugh.”

“No, it’s alright,” Seb said, with a gesture of his hand. To be completely honest he felt elated, because here were two people, two perfectly ordinary people, who actually wanted to talk to him and to be his friend. “His name is Jim and he’s nine. He only came to the home a year and a bit ago. Came over from Ireland, Dublin.”

Sophie nodded her head wisely and one of her frizzy curls escaped from behind her navy blue headband. 

“Sophie came over here too, from Greece,” Newt said, right on cue. Sebastian smiled at that, because he was starting to realise how Newt and Sophie worked as a unit. Sophie was in charge, but she let Newt do a lot of the talking. Seb supposed that was good because Newt was good at talking. He had a posh voice, very soft and kind. He probably came from a private school, but Seb didn’t want to ask about that just yet. 

“My father, my two brothers and I came here together about three years ago. People didn’t like it, of course,” Sophie revealed .

Newt looked grave. Sebastian didn’t understand why people wouldn’t like it. Sophie seemed friendly enough. 

“They don’t like foreigners,” Sophie told him, noticing his expression. “We have quite a bit of money but the people in my area don’t think we should be living there. They don’t like to talk to us.”

“What, really?” Seb asked, astounded. “Just because you’re Greek?”

Sophie nodded and then noticed the curl. She pushed it back under the headband untidily and fixed her ponytail. 

“Newt lives on the road next to mine. His family didn’t like me at first, did they?”

“No,” Newt admitted sadly. “I’m afraid they didn’t. But they have terribly old fashioned values. It isn’t their fault really. It’s the upbringing.” He shook his head wisely and then sighed with the injustice of it all. 

“We get that sometimes,” Sebastian revealed rather eagerly, his voice louder now he felt more involved, like he had something of value to add to the conversation. “Me and Jim. They don’t like us because we’re in care. They don’t talk to us much. The chip shop down the road won’t even serve us.”

Newt looked deeply upset and offended on behalf of both Sophie and Seb. 

“That’s why we have to fight,” Sophie said confidently, in her lovely foreign tones, her voice strong and smooth. “That’s why I fight my brothers. It’s practice for the world.” 

Sebastian, absolutely in agreement with this sentiment, gave a slightly nervous grin and rolled up his sleeve, ready for the arm wrestle. 

“Remember what I said about beating you,” Sophie reminded Seb, leaning over and placing her elbow on the wooden step of the stage they were seated on. “If I win you have to stay with us all day.”

Sebastian did the same with his elbow and then clasped Sophie’s hand. “If I win I’ll stay with you anyway.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Is she pretty?”

Jim and Sebastian were relaxing in their bedroom, Seb changing out of his school clothes and hanging them up neatly, putting on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt while Jim watched with great scrutiny. 

Sebastian snorted. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem important.”

“Well you must have noticed,” Jim pointed out, refusing to drop the subject even though he could see Sebastian getting uncomfortable. 

Seb closed the wardrobe and went over to tidy the desk, a nervous habit. “Yeah, I suppose so. “

“Describe her.”

“Brown hair, bit curly. Green eyes. Long, straight nose. Flared sort of nostrils.”

“That’s a very detailed description,” Jim muttered, clearly getting irritated. “Very detailed when you can’t even tell me if she’s pretty or not.”

“She isn’t like a girl though,” Seb said. “She likes sport and things, ‘cause she has brothers. She fights people and everything. Said she had a fight with a boy at her school and got excluded.”

Jim’s jaw dropped, his eyes looking as though they were about to well up. This was something he hadn’t expected. This was far, far worse than the sort of girl he’d imagined, like Cinderella or Snow White or one of those Disney princesses with the tiny waists and pretty dresses and massive cartoon eyes with long lashes. Why hadn’t he imagined this before? Someone like Sophie would be sneaky. She’d probably pretend she was just a friend and then suddenly, when Seb decided he liked playing rough games with her and things like that, she would try and make them do kissing. 

“Do you suppose you and her might fight?”

“Not properly.”

“You could break her jaw, like you said you might to Bradley?” Jim suggested hopefully, fiddling with one of his socks as he sat crossed legged on Seb’s bed, wriggling his toes and frowning. 

“Sophie’s alright.”

Jim’s expression darkened, his eyes cool. 

“And who is this other ‘friend’ of yours, hm?”

“Jack.”

“Description.”

“Why does it matter?”

Sebastian was speaking back to him already. After only one day of secondary school. Jim had to put him back in line, and quickly. Otherwise everything was lost.

“It matters because I said it matters. Who’s cleverer, me or you?”

Sebastian didn’t want to sit with Jim when he was like this, so he continued to play at tidying things up, even though everything was already in place. “You.”

“So who gets to decide if it matters?”

“You do.”

“Go on then. Describe Jack.”

“He’s thin and has brown hair, light brown though, not like yours. He has brown eyes I think. And he likes fishing with his granddad and bird watching. We call him Newt because his second name is Newton, but he likes newts too.”

“What a sissy,” Jim crowed loudly, uncrossing his legs and swinging them. 

“You’d like them if you knew them,” Sebastian said. “Honest, Jim. Sophie’s like us. She’s from Greece so she gets people being mean to her as well.”

The blond could no longer get away with his pretense and so went to sit beside Jim. He immediately realised that this was a bad decision when he spotted the look in Jim’s eyes. 

“She is not ‘like us’!” Jim hissed, smacking Sebastian hard on the chest. Seb didn’t even flinch. 

“You listen to me, Sebastian,” Jim said quietly, grabbing hold of Seb’s t-shirt and holding on tightly. “Just because you’re a big boy in a big school doesn’t mean you’re any better than before. You’re still the same person. And you’re mine. Okay? You’re my only person and if you dare abandon me for a sissy and a man-girl, then you’ll pay. Understood?”

Sebastian did understand. He understood very well what was going on, and so he nodded his head a bit sadly. Jim was scared of being alone. Sebastian knew the feeling well and he wasn’t going to make Jim suffer. What his best friend needed was reassurance so he’d calm down. 

“I told them you're my best mate,” Seb grunted. “They know you are. And I promise you’ll always come first. You’re brilliant and smart and just the best person alive. Nobody could come before you. Not ever.”

Thrilled and appeased by this little speech, Jim withdrew his claw-like grip and beamed like the Cheshire Cat. 

“I’m glad we are in agreement, Sebastian,” he said sternly, still using Seb’s full name to show he wasn’t quite off the hook yet. “That’s exactly the right attitude. Good boy.”

Seb nodded his head. He liked being called a ‘good boy’. He wasn’t often praised by anyone, and Jim’s opinion meant more to him than he could possibly explain. 

“And did you win your arm wrestle?” Jim enquired, tilting his head slightly to one side. 

Sebastian grinned, his new grin, the one that was starting to become normal for him, a natural reaction. It was slightly crooked and showed teeth. Jim liked this one far better than the old one, where Sebastian had looked down at the ground bashfully and grunted. 

“Yeah, ‘course I did.” 

“Good,” Jim said happily, relaxing now. “I like it when you win. When you fail I just feel disappointed. Keep it up.”

“I will,” Seb agreed, yawning and running a hand through his blonde hair, messing it up. Jim tutted at the sight. 

“Has it worn you out already? he demanded, a mocking edge to his tone. “Poor Sebby. One day and you’re exhausted.”

“Jim, I-“

“You can’t go to sleep now. I forbid it.”

“Okay,” Seb mumbled, lifting his head obediently. 

“And don’t go thinking I’m being cruel, because I know for a fact Dawn has bought you a special chocolate dessert that isn’t actually for dessert, it’s for now.”

“Chocolate dessert?”

Jim nodded proudly. “I helped to choose it, which is why it’s chocolate. I know you like nasty healthy fruity crumbly things, but I felt like chocolate, and I haven’t had any for ages.”

The nine year old blinked up at Sebastian, wide eyed. 

“You’re not angry with me are you?”

“No,” Seb said quickly, although inside he was a little disappointed. “You’re right, you haven’t had chocolate for ages. ‘S only fair.”

Jim allowed the moment to last for too long, and then suddenly threw himself on to his back, giggling. Seb raised his head, confused and pleased, as usual not really understanding Jim’s sudden mood swings. 

“Are you okay?” Seb asked carefully, peering at Jim. 

Jim rolled onto his side and beamed at Sebastian, clearly deeply amused. “There’s both, silly. I told Dawn do get the apple crumble for you, and she got both because she likes you and that means she likes me by extension.”

Seb smiled and nodded, ears blushing, knowing what it meant that Jim had potentially given up his chance at a chocolate treat for him, and that Dawn had thought to appease Jim anyway. “Dawn’s cool.”

“Dawn has her uses occasionally,” Jim corrected, laughing. “Anyway, she can’t resist buying desserts. Any person could see that.”


	16. The Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verity decides it is finally time to move Jim and Sebastian into separate bedrooms, with disastrous consequences.

Jim liked to keep a distinct gap between home and school life. Jim’s school was not something he ever talked about. He got very cross if anyone mentioned the place, and hissed like a snake or an angry cat if anybody dared to ask how he was enjoying it or what he did there. The only person he accepted only the most very basic of questions from was Sebastian. When Seb asked him what they taught him there, Jim answered very vaguely ‘maths’, and when he asked if the other kids were treating him alright, Jim looked momentarily livid, quickly dissolved into a smile, and then poked Sebastian on the nose with an ‘obviously’. Not even Seb could make much sense of Jim’s attitude towards his special school, despite their ability to communicate without much verbalisation, something that was starting to drive Frank and Verity up the wall. Sometimes Sebastian found himself worrying about Jim, because he seemed like the type of person bullies might attempt to gang up on. He was small for his age, very bright, and made no secret of his dislike for most people. Sebastian wondered if the reason Jim was so angry about questions regarding his welfare, was that he didn’t want to be seen as weak.

Every morning Jim trooped off to his special school clad in a red uniform with a blank expression on his face, too big blazer dipping past his wrists, his books clutched greedily and possessively in his hands because they held all sorts of mathematical ‘secrets’, the key to Jim’s future. Only Sebastian was given the honour of holding the textbooks while they sat in the minibus, and sometimes Jim leaned against him and closed his eyes yawning. Whatever he did at his school, it was wearing him out. 

Sebastian’s own school was fairly enjoyable, for a place where you were expected to work hard and follow rules. He still hung around with Newt and Sophie, amassing a fair few other friends who he didn’t feel as close to, but could glance at in a lesson and receive a grin instead of indifference. Despite this newfound circle of potential friends, Sebastian still missed Jim. He found himself thinking about his Irish roommate in his boring lessons, when his mind wandered (mostly in maths and music). He missed having someone so close to him that they merely had to glance at each other to share a joke. He missed being able to secretly hold hands under the desk when Jim was having one of his bad days, his depression making him quiet and mournful. He even missed Jim smacking him for being an ‘idiot’. Sophie and Newt were great, but they were already a pair. They finished each other’s sentences, and had known each other for years, grown up together. After being a loner for so many years of his life and inwardly wishing desperately for people to accept him, he would have given this new popularity up in an instant if it meant having Jim with him every day. Even if that meant being outcasts together like they were in Junior school. 

At the end of his first term, Sebastian brought home a report card that was mostly positive, plus he hadn’t had any big fights. One or two minor scuffles, but nothing serious enough to be notable. He even had an ‘A’ for English and an ‘A’ for Geography. They hadn’t covered Geography much in his old school, but it turned out his attendance at Scouts, his maps of the world and his interest in the army and the locations of various conflicts and battles, had worked together to give him a good understanding of the subject, something Seb was fiercely proud of. All his life he’d been looked at as a poor kid, as a thug, and now, all of a sudden, he was treated like a clever kid, like a person who was going places. His work was covered in ticks and positive comments instead of red crosses, and not one person had teased him yet for his background. The other tough boys nodded at him as a sign of respect, same as they did to Sophie, who was proving to be twice as tough as most of the boys in the year. It should have been perfect for Seb, but it was not. But he imagined it could have been perfect if he had a bossy little Irish boy next to him, affectionately insulting him and telling him what to do. 

At the end of Jim’s first term, he was already reaching his limits. Jim was more unhappy than he could remember, a mixture of being separated from Sebastian, seeing him move on with new older friends, and being teased by the other children and some of the teenagers too. His school, which had promised to be a haven for the gifted boy, had soon become something to be dreaded and feared. The teachers could not fully control their intelligent pupils, and Jim was often on the receiving end of this. Occasionally he was pushed around, bumped into, had his books knocked out of his hands. Sometimes it was worse than that and they stole his equipment, getting him into trouble when it wasn’t his fault. As a consequence, Jim did not trust his teachers or the other pupils, and grew more and more withdrawn, his depressive days becoming more frequent, his hatred for humanity growing like a parasite. 

He made a decision very early on not to tell Sebastian what was happening. He didn’t want to be some silly damsel in distress like in books, who needed a knight to save her. Besides, Sebastian would only worry and stress himself out, and that wasn’t fair. Jim inwardly resolved to pay back all the people who bullied him when he was older, and at first, the imaginings of his powerful future were enough to get him through his days. But soon he was spending lunchtimes in the library, or tucked away in the posh toilets, anything to get away from the others. The realisation that he had years left of this pain was almost too much to bear.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

It was around the first week off school the two boys had in common that Verity finally got things moving enough to implement her plan in splitting up their sleeping arrangements. She called Dawn into her office and informed her that she would be tasked with telling Sebastian, and she, Verity, would tell Jim the news. Dawn was doubtful and reluctant, but what could she do? There was no pretending Sebastian wasn’t growing, and she supposed it was right to separate them. But something told her that forcing that change at such a time would only end badly and add to the boys’ considerable stress. 

Jim kicked up an almighty stink, screaming and screeching at the top of his lungs, swearing at Verity, attempting to throw the paperweight across the table and bash her head in. He was forcibly carried to the cooler by Frank, held kicking and hitting over his shoulder, legs swinging wildly in the air, and left in there under strict monitoring, to make sure he didn’t harm himself with the limited resources he had in there with him. All the camera seemed to show was Jim shrieking for a few minutes, then writing swear words on the walls with the crayons, and then curling up in the middle of a beanbag circle he had created himself and hiding from the view of the camera. 

Sebastian’s main concern had been Jim the moment Dawn had taken him aside and explained the predicament. The older boy hadn’t shouted or even showed the slightest sign he was enraged. He was resigned to it, trying to keep his emotions in check, not wanting Dawn to see him crumble or crack under the pressure.

“He needs me sometimes,” he tried to explain, sniffing and pretending to be nonchalant, chewing on his lower lip to keep his mind focused on not letting him show his misery. 

“You’ll still be seeing each other the same amount of time,” Dawn pointed out, unknowingly. “It will be just like before, for him. Only instead of going up to his bunk, he’ll go to his new bedroom. Verity says he can stay up until lights out with you if he wants, just until he settles.”

Sebastian looked pained, like a great weight was bearing down on his broadening shoulders. “Sometimes… at night, I mean. He gets scared. He gets nightmares, you know, because of his depression.”

“Frank will be just down the hall,” Dawn told Sebastian, knowing in her heart that this was no consolation. From what she knew of Jim, he didn’t trust anyone but Sebastian with his problems or questions. “And I stay on Thursdays and Sundays, don’t I?” 

“It’s going to really hurt him,” Sebastian said weakly, sitting at his desk and running a nervous hand through his hair. He didn’t like to say how much it would hurt him too. Not even in front of Dawn. Somehow he knew that the cuddling wasn’t really acceptable behavior, and it wasn’t something he could tell anyone else about. Certainly Jim would murder him for telling.

“I promise I’ll do my best to keep things okay,” Dawn said honestly. “It had to happen eventually, soldier. You’re going to be a teenager soon. It happens to everyone.”

“I know,” Sebastian mumbled, although he still thought it was stupid. All he could think about was Jim, and how he was going to react when he finished his meeting with Verity.

Jim was frogmarched in to say goodnight to Sebastian, after an evening of separation because of Jim being kept in the cooler. His eyes were tired, his lids droopy. Sebastian thought Jim looked like he’d been drained of all his energy and happiness. The smaller boy could barely raise his head, and he shuffled like he did on his worst days, the days when he cried at small things and wouldn’t talk to anyone. 

Because Verity was there to supervise, nothing went right. Sebastian couldn’t rush up to Jim and scoop him into his arms and hug him and kiss him on the forehead like he wanted to, especially with Jim looking so small and pale in his blue pyjamas. He had to get up from his bed, awkwardly give Jim a hug that was barely returned because of their viewer, and then patted him lightly on the back. Jim seemed to try and cling for a moment, but it quickly passed as he remembered the act they were putting on.

“Night then, Jim,” Sebastian mumbled awkwardly. “Sleep well, yeah?”

Jim nodded his head and didn’t say a single word. He didn’t even raise his brown eyes. 

Then he was lead out and escorted to his new bedroom, the one that had once belonged to Toby and Graham and was situated in the middle of the hall. 

Jim got into bed and pretended to fall asleep, knowing he would be checked on because of his outburst earlier. Minutes later, he heard Frank at the door, turning his light off and leaving again. There was no clock in his room with him, and so Jim had to use his own mind to work out roughly what time it was. Verity worked until eleven and then went to bed in her meeting room, where there was a makeshift camp bed that turned into a sofa. Two members of the care staff were required to stay each night, and unfortunately, that meant no Dawn, just Frank and Verity. 

When Jim decided it had to be around two o’clock in the morning, he slipped out of bed silently and padded out of his bedroom, bare feet soundless against the carpet on the landing. 

He didn’t feel well and his head was hurting, like it always did after he cried. He could hear buzzing and humming and his thoughts rushed around like a bitter wind, all of them harsh and cruel, just like he was when he was at his most extreme. 

His hair still smelled funny, even after the hair wash he’d given himself after school in the bathroom, using lots of soap and warm water. Earlier that day one of the boys had hauled him into a toilet and forced his head down past the seat, pulling the chain so the toilet flushed and his hair and face got splashed. Jim was scared of germs, and he hated uncleanliness. Yet he’d battled through the day, well, his equivalent of that. He had remained curled up in the toilet, shaking and crying, hidden well, until the bell went and Dawn came to pick him up. 

The only way he had got through the ordeal was by telling himself that when he got home that night, and he was curled up in bed with Sebastian, he would maybe tell him the truth, and cry a bit, and let himself be comforted by his well meaning and oddly gentle best friend. He had intended to sleep for a while, making Seb go to bed early with him, and then together they could think of ways for him to fight back, or to hide. Sebastian, he knew, would be fuming with rage and would want to punch someone, but that had been a comforting thought, an amusing one. 

Jim poked his head into his and Sebastian’s old bedroom at the end of the hall and saw through the darkness that Seb was fast asleep, looking peaceful and untroubled, sprawled out in the lower bunk, maybe even seeming happy. Maybe he had liked the space all this time and hadn’t admitted to him that he wanted to be alone? No, that was silly, Jim reminded himself, because he could read people and Sebastian enjoyed cuddling him at night. That much was clear. At least it had been at the time. Now his thoughts were swirling again and calling him all sorts of names. Sebastian was better off without him really, they said. Jim was just a little freak whose Mummy and Daddy didn’t even want him. He was broken and sad all the time, not like the other little boys.

Well, there was only one solution to the problem. Jim decided to resort to the only way he’d ever known to get his voice heard. That was, if his voice was capable of being heard after this. 

He blew Sebastian a kiss in the dark and then trotted more confidently, like a sad but now decided little ghost, to the top of the stairs. He stood there for a moment, glancing into the darkness below and then spread his arms with a tired sigh. Jim closed his eyes, thought of Sebastian, and threw himself forwards.


	17. The Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has a discussion with a new care coordinator called Gemma and is finally allowed to see Sebastian.

“Hello, Jim. I’m Gemma.”

“Yes,” Jim said in as sinister a tone as he could muster with his croaky voice. “I’ve been expecting you.”

The woman laughed, which Jim decided to excuse, seeing as she wasn’t mocking him. Besides, there wasn’t much he could do to her at the moment, one arm cast in a sling, his head bound with bandages, his entire body weak from the drugs they had decided to pump into him.

Gemma sat down on the chair beside Jim’s bed, neatly shuffling her papers and putting her reading glasses on. Jim knew this was an official visit because he had been forewarned a care coordinator would be coming to assess him. This Gemma wasn’t as bad as he had anticipated, in fact, she only looked about the same age as Dawn. 

She cleared her throat and gave a kind but professional smile, one that Jim knew meant she didn’t really care about him, but needed answers. “I’ve heard that you get extra sad sometimes, is that right?” 

Jim rolled his eyes at the childish voice she was using. It was clearly put on for his sake. 

“I have diagnosed clinical depression, also Borderline Personality Disorder or Bipolar. They can’t decide yet. They’ll know when I’m older. The diagnostic criteria can only be applied when I’m eighteen.”

Gemma blinked a bit bemusedly and then nodded her head, realising her mistake in talking down to Jim. His small body was deceiving, apparently, because he seemed far more mature in his tone and mannerisms.

“Right,” said the woman, in a slightly less patronising tone, looking at her notes again and then forcing another smile, “Well, my job is to check everything is okay with you.”

“It isn’t,” Jim said immediately, raising his eyebrows at Gemma. 

“No?”

A devilish glint entered his eyes, his lips curling almost imperceptibly into a smirk of trouble. This interview was boring, and so he was going to play a bit. 

“No,” he informed her, shaking his head. “I’ve broken my arm, look.”

Jim inclined his head at his cast, still plain white because it was new. Jim wanted Sebastian to draw on it as soon as they let him in. He could write jokes and words of comfort too, so many that anybody who saw him would think he had lots of friends who loved him and wanted him to be better. Jim would make Sebastian use different colours just to achieve that effect. 

Gemma could sense this was a troublesome child, and the file she held in her manicured hands seemed to confirm that. Mostly harmless, but with behavioural difficulties. He had a history of self harm and suffered major depressive episodes every so often. Not the worst case she’d dealt with recently by any stretch of the imagination. 

“But sometimes we get other hurts that people can’t see. Inside hurts,” Gemma prompted, forcing herself not to glance at the watch on her wrist. She had learned patience seeing as it was necessary for her job, but that didn’t stop her wishing that the kids could be a little more cooperative with her. Just this morning one of the children had been sick on her out of spite and she’d had to change. 

“Like constipation?” Jim asked cheekily, wriggling a bit in his bed because he was enjoying himself. 

“Um, no,” she said, slightly put off by that remark. “I’m not talking about tummy aches and pains, I’m talking about the bad feelings we get inside our heads.” 

Jim was still staring at her with faux blankness and misunderstanding. 

“Now, you’re a clever boy,” she tried to appeal to him. “You know why you’re here, in the psychiatric ward.”

The little boy groaned and then hummed in a mocking, sing-song kind of way. 

“Because I fell down the stairs.”

Gemma nodded, pleased that the interview seemed to be getting back on track. 

“Why did you fall, Jim?”

“I tripped.”

“You tripped?”

Jim nodded his head and then winced because he felt dizzy when he moved too much. Under his bandages was a cut on his head the surgeons had stitched up for him while he was asleep. It wasn’t deep, at least, Jim didn’t think it was. Probably just split skin, not bone. 

“You tripped, Jim,” Gemma repeated, trying to regain the little boy’s attention. It was no wonder he was a bit out of it, she thought, seeing as he had new drugs in his system. They always tended to leave the kids a little distracted. 

“Yes,” Jim confirmed solemnly. “I was on my way downstairs because Verity sleeps down there. She’s a pig and she’s supposed to be head care worker, but I hate her. I wanted to complain.”

Gemma’s finely plucked eyebrows raised. 

“Complain about what?”

Jim sighed and then made a sulky face, a real one this time. His stomach still bubbled with anger when he thought about the situation. 

“She put me in a new room and I didn’t like it.”

“So that’s why you fell?”

Jim looked at Gemma as though she were very stupid. 

“No. I fell because I was going to go and tell Verity how stupid she is, but I tripped before I could get there because I wasn’t holding the bannister.”

Gemma stared at Jim, clearly trying to read him, to see if he was telling the truth. Jim wanted to laugh but he couldn’t. It was easy to trick idiots like her, ones who thought they were smart but were really quite average. 

“So you didn’t deliberately hurt yourself?”

Jim scoffed convincingly. 

“What sort of idiot throws himself down the stairs? If you really wanted to die you could jump off a roof. It’s higher up and you’d probably smash your head against the pavement.”

Gemma made a note about the violent words in Jim’s file and then clicked the top of her pen. 

“Right. Well. How are you feeling?”

“Right now?” Jim enquired unhelpfully. 

“Yes.”

“Very bored,” he sighed, feigning a large yawn just to show Gemma how dull she was. 

“And in yourself? Your thoughts and feelings? What are you thinking?”

Whatever Jim had previously been thinking, however, suddenly shifted to second place. His eyes lit up with excitement and he tried to lift himself off the bed, leaning on his arm and wincing, falling back again with frustration. 

Gemma shook her head. 

“Jim, I need you to concentrate for a moment. You can do whatever you want to do in a few minutes.”

“I want to see my friend,” Jim demanded sulkily, scowling at Gemma, stupid Gemma who was wasting his time. 

“Who’s that?” 

Jim rolled his eyes again and let out a moan of frustration. 

“Obviously the boy who’s standing outside and waiting to come in, doofus!”

Gemma turned around and noticed immediately what had taken Jim’s attention. There was a blond child, or young adolescent, dressed in a blazer and smart school uniform, peering through the glass of the doors that separated the ward from the others, looking desperate and nervous. Apparently he had met eyes with his friend, because Jim gave a little noise of childish glee from behind Gemma, the type that couldn’t be acted, and the blond boy waved slightly awkwardly, mouthing words to Jim. Gemma couldn’t make out what they were. 

She wrote another note in the file and then ticked a box, noticing that Jim still seemed to find enjoyment in something, seeing as he had reacted so well to his friend. That meant he wasn’t deemed ill enough to stay in the hospital, and would instead return home, seeing a councilor there three times a week to check his progress. Gemma personally highly suspected that Jim falling down the stairs had been a deliberate move to harm himself, but there was no evidence of that and lots of children needed help. There wasn’t enough money or beds in the NHS to keep children in who might not need it. 

With a sigh, she turned to Jim again, knowing she wouldn’t get any response from him now. 

“Right then, Jim. Thank you for talking to me. I’m going to send your assessment through to Verity and we’ll go from there. You won’t need to stay in hospital, but we’ll have someone come and see you, just to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Yes, yes,” Jim said dismissively, waving his good hand to get her to stop talking. “I want to see Sebastian. Tell them they can come in. Go on.” 

Wearily, Gemma stood, straightened her skirt, and then went to the door, opening it and stepping back suddenly as the blond boy charged past her, running for Jim’s bed. 

The woman who had arrived with the boy, a plump, smiling woman with blonde hair, thanked her for her time and promised to try and keep things calm. 

“Sebastian hasn’t seen him since he fell,” she revealed, needlessly. “He even came home from school with a stomach upset. He’s not infectious, don’t worry. Just worried about Jim.”

Gemma gave a fake smile, all dead eyes and perfect teeth, pretending she was interested, and then made her excuses, trotting off in her high heeled shoes, seriously considering getting another job, one in which she wouldn’t have to deal with children that had never been taught manners or how to behave. 

When Dawn reached Jim’s bed, Sebastian had half crawled onto the cheap hospital mattress so he was laying down on his side, holding Jim tightly, his body language protective, defensive, like an animal guarding its young. 

She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were muttering to each other, faces very close, Jim’s brown eyes wide and adoring, Sebastian’s blue ones bloodshot from lack of sleep, but attentive. The blond nodded his head every now and again as though taking orders and Jim’s pale hand was fisted possessively in Sebastian’s white school shirt. 

Dawn tilted her head slightly to one side and swallowed, silently watching, thinking, beginning to come to a realisation. Perhaps one that Verity had reached a while before her but hadn’t voiced. 

“Oh, Seb,” she sighed to herself, reaching down to pick up Sebastian’s school blazer which lay forgotten and crumpled on the ground by the bed. In gaining a best friend, it seemed Sebastian had also managed to run headfirst into responsibility, guilt and love.

Behind Dawn, in one of the other beds, a little girl was staring, her brows furrowed as she spotted the two cuddling boys opposite her. 

Dawn glanced at the girl, gave her a strained smile, and then pulled the hospital curtains safely around the three of them, perching carefully on the end of Jim’s bed and being as unobtrusive as she could manage. 

She needn’t have worried, though, because Jim and Sebastian seemed to have entirely blocked out their surroundings and the outside world. Lost in their private whisperings. 

Dawn knew she should probably say something. Verity would be admonishing the pair by now, telling them that cuddling wasn’t appropriate in boys of their age, not the way they were. But Dawn’s own moral compass just couldn’t let her separate them. Jim was a very mentally unwell little boy and he was lonely. He needed some form of love, seeing as he got it from nobody else. And Sebastian’s violent temper seemed to be improving since Jim arrived, at least, he could control it better. To Dawn’s knowledge, Sebastian had never once raised a hand to Jim, and that was a stunning achievement in a boy that used to hit others frequently because of paranoia. 

Dawn was well aware that Jim would be crying in twenty minutes time when she and Sebastian had to leave him. He was being taken home the next day, needing to be monitored for one more night just as hospital policy. There was no way she was going to destroy his sense of safety and happiness now. 

Just as that thought hit her, she did hear sniffling. But the noises weren’t coming from Jim. They were coming from Sebastian. She stopped, stunned, because Sebastian hadn’t cried in public in years, not even when he had been beaten up by a gang of bigger boys in the year above him. She almost went to comfort him when Jim began to stroke Sebastian’s hair and hush him softly, taking that position from her as easily as breathing. Seb curled in as far as he could, and Jim continued to mutter lowly, right into his best friend’s ear. 

It was a sight to behold. Jim Moriarty actually showing compassion. Dawn only wished Verity could be there to witness it. Maybe that way, instead of writing Seb off as an emotionless thug, and Jim as a manipulative psychopath, she might be forced to realise that they were just boys. Just children. A pair of kids clinging to each other in an unstable and unkind world.


	18. The Last Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is badly shaken after his trip to the hospital and receives a call from a friend.

Sebastian came home from the hospital that evening looking pale and drained. Not only had he cried in public, which made him feel like a baby, but Jim had also started crying when he had to leave, which made him feel guilty and irresponsible. He had had no right to get upset in front of Jim, and he should have known better than to show his emotions. The eleven year old swallowed and resolved to be stronger in future. No more crying. Not for anything. 

Dawn put the radio on in the car on the way home because she knew Sebastian wouldn’t want to talk about what had happened. Every so often she stole a glance at the boy strapped in next to her. He looked traumatised, like a boy who didn’t realise quite how young he was. His posture was very stoic, his chin held quietly and defiantly high as he gazed out of the window. Dawn could see that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, and also noted the redness around his eyes from his earlier crying. Seb was pinching his left thumb, his own personal way of trying to deal with an onslaught of too many emotions at once.

Once home he ate dinner alone in the kitchen because the others were all finished already. He ate fish fingers and chips with ketchup without speaking, just shoveling food into his mouth with a fork, barely chewing it, just wanting it to be over so tomorrow would come sooner. 

He changed into his night clothes of his own accord, choosing a big baggy blue t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. 

Sleeping wasn’t an option, because it was too early, and Sebastian’s mind was racing. He picked up one of his books, Le Morte d’ Arthur and tried to focus on the characters of his childhood, the only ones that had been there for him when he was little, before Jim had arrived. He skim read a page about Gareth and tried to think of the knight, to make him appear in his mind like he usually could with book characters. All he could muster up was a sad and lonely looking Jim crying alone in his hospital bed, bandaged up and bruised from his fall. 

Seb flicked through the old pages for a while and then found himself staring at the first page, the one with the pencil inscription. He traced the name ‘Eleanor Dereham’ with his finger and for one sickening moment wondered why it was his mother never sent him letters the way Jim’s did. Jim hated his mother, and yet she still kept on trying to keep in contact. What had Seb done that was so wrong? He was sorry about getting his Father put in prison, but it hadn’t been his fault. He had been too young to be brave. 

He sniffed and chased away those dangerous thoughts. His mother was most probably busy or assumed he was okay. A man should always be strong and deal with whatever situation he was in, at least, that was what Sebastian believed. Perhaps that was the lesson she was trying to teach him? Perhaps when he was older, maybe sixteen or seventeen, she would come back for him to see how he’d grown and praise him for getting by all on his own. In his most secret imaginings Sebastian saw himself as a fully grown man, strong and like his Father, finally seeing his mother again and being embraced, accepted. He wanted her to be proud of him so much. 

He was thankfully interrupted from these thoughts by a knock on his bedroom door. He grunted, which meant ‘come in’, and Harry poked his head around the door. 

“Frank says there’s a phone call for you,” he said helpfully.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. He’d never once had a phone call in the whole time at Westminster Home. His heart skipped fleetingly, thinking it might be Jim, but he quickly reminded himself this was unlikely. Jim didn’t have a phone to hand, and he’d probably had his evening sleeping tablets by now. 

“I don’t think it’s Jim,” Harry admitted lowly, in an imitation of Sebastian’s own voice. Recently, Harry had decided that he wanted to be similar to Sebastian, who he thought was the right sort of boy to emulate. Unfortunately Sebastian scowled, thinking he was being mocked. “But you never know,” he added hopefully, trying to show some support to the older boy. Seb grunted again and so Harry shut up. 

The two boys hurried down the stairs in silence, Harry just a step behind, watching Sebastian with admiration. 

Harry followed Sebastian as he made his in to the study, wanting to find out what was going on, but Frank gave him a weary but knowing smile and told him to go and use the bathroom while it was free. The ten year old looked disappointed but obediently left. 

“Who is it?” Sebastian grunted, not liking to ask Frank anything if he could help it, but far too agitated to remain silent. 

Frank pointed at the receiver with an annoyingly smug smile, as if the pair of them were in on a joke together. “Girl by the name of Sophie. She tells me it’s urgent.”

Sebastian’s shoulders fell into a more relaxed position with relief that it was not Jim despairing and calling for help. He had to fight away a sudden unbidden grin too, because it was so like his friend to do something like this. Seb had never given Sophie the number of his home, but she must have hunted around to find it. They weren’t allowed calls after eight, but then again, Sophie didn’t know that. Sebastian also doubted she would care. She was the sort of person who didn’t think much of rules.

Taking the receiver tentatively, Sebastian glanced at Frank who took that as his cue to leave the room. 

“Hello?” Seb asked self-consciously, very aware that anyone could be listening in.

“So how is he?” Sophie demanded, her accent strong and bossy. Sebastian got an image of her leaning against something and tapping her fingers on the surface, or perhaps dangling off the side of the sofa. She always gave off vibes of impatience and enthusiasm and couldn’t remain still for long. 

Seb swallowed and cleared his throat. Talking on the phone was more stressful than he’d realised. When you couldn’t see the person’s face, it was tough to tell what they were thinking, or even what they meant by seemingly harmless words. 

“Er… broken arm and a cut on his head,” Sebastian related back to her. 

There was a moment of silence where she waited for more, which was eventually broken by a long sigh. 

“Well? Go on then. How is he? Is he awake? Does he have just a sling or is it a cast? Was he happy to see you?” 

The barrage of questions was helpful to Seb, because his mind sorted them into a list so he could answer them one by one. 

“He’s not too bad. He doesn’t like the hospital, but he’ll be home soon. I don’t think he feels dreadful because of the tablets he’s on. I don’t know, though. He can hide stuff when he wants to. Yeah, he was awake. And he has a cast. Um, yeah, he was happy to see me. He usually is.” 

Sophie made a harrumphing noise, which in most people would have expressed displeasure. Seb knew that Sophie did that when she was digesting information. 

“Good. Will you see him tomorrow? And are you coming to school?”

“He’s coming home tomorrow, and yeah, I have to go to school. I did ask Verity if I could stay put, but she said I could see him when I came home.”

“I don’t like this Verity,” Sophie declared instantly. “She tells you what to do too much.”

Seb smiled a bit reluctantly, pleased at this declaration. It somehow made him feel better to know that it wasn’t only he and Jim that felt Verity was ruining everything. 

In the background of the call, Sebastian heard a deep, young and accented voice calling to Sophie. She took the phone away from her ear and answered with enthusiastic and playful insult, muffled as she held the phone against her shoulder. Seb heard the man, probably one of her brothers, laugh and then leave the room. 

“Just Paul,” Sophie informed Sebastian easily. “He likes to wind me up when I’m on the phone. He thought you were Newt.”

“Oh, right,” Seb mumbled, not really sure how to respond to that. He liked the idea of having older brothers to tease you and help you out of trouble, but it seemed so alien to him. Sophie’s side of the phone seemed to much more alive than his own. There was vague music playing and a telly was on too. He thought he could even hear clattering in the kitchen. On Sebastian’s end all that could be heard was Frank patronizing Pippa from the other room. 

“Soooooo,” Sophie began again, clearly back on topic. “School tomorrow. Biscotti for you and Newt. My father made them. One each.” 

“Cheers,” said Seb instantly, although he didn’t know what a biscotti was. It sounded, to him, like a biscuit. 

“Newt’s been really worried about you. You know how he is,” Sophie barreled on. As usual going far faster than it should be possible for a human being to talk. “He collected your homework for you, unfortunately. He’s a real fool sometimes. Scared of getting told off by old Warty Face McGowan.” 

Frank reemerged in the study gesturing that it was time for Sebastian to end the call. Of course, with Sophie chattering, it was easier said than done. 

“Algebra, yuck. Awful. No use for it after school. Paul is proof. He says it was the most pointless thing he ever got taught. Mind you, Paul isn’t very brainy. He says that his muscles make up for it though. I suppose they do. He’s good at boxing-“

“Um, Sophie?” Sebastian mumbled, trying to stop her before she elaborated on the topic, although Sebastian would have very much liked to hear about the boxing.

“You have to go,” she said instantly, with a sigh. “Can’t be helped. Oh well. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, I told Brandon I’d wrestle him tomorrow on the top field. You have to be there in case I need reinforcements. He’s bringing Samuel. Newt’s no good. He couldn’t wrestle a chicken.”

Sebastian grinned, looking forward to seeing that particular fight. Brandon, he, Newt and Sophie had decided, was all talk. He had quite recently told Sophie that girls were only good at cooking and being annoying. Sophie had been dying to get her hands on him ever since.

“Well, see you then,” Seb said quietly, because Frank was in the room. 

“See you, Seb. Don’t worry about Jim. Bye.” 

Sebastian put the phone down and then shuffled past Frank, heading up the stairs to his bedroom without another word. Frank tried to catch his eye as he passed, but Seb didn’t look up. Everyone was trying to be nice to him now Jim was in the hospital, but he didn’t trust that. Pity was not something Sebastian appreciated, and he didn’t trust the sudden kindness of people who usually told him off or gave him a wide berth. 

The call from Sophie had lifted his spirits at the time, but even moments later he began to feel dark again. He envied her life, having a father who cooked things and two big brothers who seemed to genuinely like her. Sebastian knew jealousy was bad, and he would never act on it or breathe a word of his feelings to anyone, but there was still an empty space in the pit of his stomach when he thought about the playful teasing he had heard. He wanted a family of his own.

And then Sebastian felt a massive surge of guilt because Jim was his little brother and Dawn was his big sister. There were people who had it far worse than him. He was lucky, really, because he had managed to construct a family of his own, even if it wasn’t quite like the usual kind. And although they weren’t related, Seb still cared about them as though they were. 

As he brushed his teeth Sebastian realised that he had to be like Paul. He was the older brother. It was his duty to protect Jim from harm because he was two years older. 

But Jim has come to harm, a horrid voice in his head told him. Because you weren’t there to protect him.

Sebastian experienced the sudden strange sensation of wanting to run away, but from what? And where to? And then the guilt got worse because he wasn’t thinking in a manly way. He was thinking like a coward. 

Once in bed, Sebastian stared up at the bunk above his own, eyes wide open in a glazed sort of horror, his exhaustion not enough to send him to sleep. He kept thinking of Jim, in that hospital bed, too small for it, in a room full of strangers. He tossed and turned, too hot and then too cold, as though he was ill. 

After twenty minutes of unease, Sebastian kicked off his covers and got out of bed. He couldn’t take the feelings swirling inside him anymore. He had to do something, anything. He paced his room for a bit, fists clenched, and then his eyes settled on his postcard of Jesus Christ. For the first time he snarled at it. Jesus’s gentle face suddenly looked far too smug. The way his left hand was raised as he spoke, suddenly became a gesture of control and command. It looked pompous, like a teacher setting down stupid rules. 

With great conflict in his heart, Sebastian sank to his knees and clutched his hands together, blue eyes narrowed with distrust. 

“Dear God,” he mumbled. His tone hard and dangerous, not his usual quiet reverence. “Or the Holy Spirit. Or Jesus Christ. Whoever’s listening.” 

He sniffed and then continued. “I need to know why you let Jim fall down those stairs. You let people die everyday and it’s supposed to be okay because they end up in Heaven, but why Jim? Jim’s only nine. And I think he dropped himself down the stairs. Why did you let it happen?” 

As expected, there was no response. Jesus continued to look gentle and useless. 

“Something’s so wrong with him he broke his own arm. Why won’t you make him better? I’ve prayed to you every night, and you could do it so easily. Don’t you care?” 

The fury Sebastian felt as Jesus’s brown eyes continued to gaze calmly into the middle distance was too much to bear. 

He got up quickly and changed to the desk, ripping the postcard off the wall and tearing it into eight pieces, growling lowly as he did so. He threw the pieces on the ground and then opened his curtains, almost pulling them down. 

The sky was dark and few stars glinted in the midst of the inky blue expanse.

“I’m talking to you, God,” Sebastian hissed, fists clenched. “I need you to fix Jim, and if you don’t do it, then I’ll make you pay.”

One of the stars seemed to glow a little brighter. Sebastian saw that as a sign he was being listened to and he grew in confidence. 

“Give the hurt to me instead if you have to. Give it to anyone. But not Jim, you understand? He has to be okay.”

Panting at his daring, Sebastian took a step backwards. He had just threatened God. The creator of everything. The great and terrible. The man who could send floods and plagues on a whim. 

“I mean it,” he added, now whispering. “If you don’t do something then I’ll make you regret it.”

Feeling shaky with a mixture of fear and adrenaline, Sebastian nodded his head without an ‘Amen’ and climbed back into his bed. His heart was thumping in his chest and his imagination was heading into overdrive. He had visions of the Devil coming for him and dragging him by the feet to Hell. Maybe the Devil would even burn his bed while he slept and in the morning there would only be a charred skeleton left. Maybe when Jim came home he would see it and cry. Maybe he would see it and not care at all…

At some point Sebastian’s thoughts must have become dreams, although it was difficult to distinguish when. 

In his dream there was a howling noise, like the rushing of wind, a rustling flapping sound of giant wings, and then the smashing of glass. There in his bedroom stood an angel, a terrible angel, tall and pale and beautiful. His jaw was pointed and he had heavily lidded eyes, bright green. He held himself with great dignity and his movements were slow and purposeful. Sebastian cowered in bed as his eyes fixed on the golden halo around the angel’s head, not quite glowing, but alive nevertheless.

Sebastian was waiting to be burned alive or to be killed in some awful holy way.

But all the angel did was shake his head with disappointment. He looked down at Sebastian like he was insignificant, the way a person would look at an ant, and then he sighed, the sound soft.

Seb blinked harshly, trying to stop himself from trembling as the angel strode the tiny distance to his bed and stood directly beside him. The room felt cooler now, but not uncomfortably so, cold in a clean odourless way. Sebastian was now sweating profusely. 

The angel extended a hand, his arm slender and smooth like marble. Sebastian closed his eyes, ready to meet his end. God must have sent the angel to smite him because he had turned away from the Lord. It was difficult not to regret the decision in that moment, but Sebastian somehow managed to stop himself from pleading for forgiveness. He meant what he said. Jim was to be fixed if Seb was ever going to pray to God again. 

Sebastian felt the cool weight of a palm on his forehead, which calmed him very suddenly. It felt as though he had been holding his breath for a long time and had finally allowed himself to gasp for air. This lasted for a moment and then it ended…

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Dawn, who was on morning duty, knocked on Sebastian’s bedroom door at seven to wake him up for school. She got no immediate response, and so after a few more tries she tentatively opened the door with a gentle, “Seb?”

The eleven year old was sleeping peacefully and deeply in his bed, his expression open, lips slightly apart. Dawn smiled and went to open his bedroom curtains and let the early morning sunlight in. Something got stuck to her sock and she glanced down, seeing a shred of card attached to the material of her socks. She bent down and picked it up, seeing a brown eye and long dark hair gazing back at her. Dawn glanced at the space above Sebastian’s desk and noticed immediately that the Jesus postcard was gone. Frowning, she picked up all the pieces and placed them neatly on Sebastian’s desk. 

“Seb?” she said softy. “Wake up, Seb. Breakfast is downstairs. Seb?” 

The blonde boy grunted and opened his eyes, stretching his arms out behind him. He was alive then. Not in Hell and not dead. He sat up slowly, inspecting his arms to check his flesh was still intact. 

“You okay?” Dawn asked, noticing Sebastian’s uncertain expression and odd actions. “Are you feeling sick?”

Sebastian shook his head and pulled himself together. He could feel a dream pushing on the very edges of his subconscious, just begging to be played out in his mind. But he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t remember. It was like trying to catch smoke in his hands, or trying to cup water in his palms, as frustrating as when it trickled away from between his fingers. 

“I had a nightmare, I think,” Seb admitted, climbing out of bed and glancing at the desk where the pieces of the Jesus Christ postcard remained. 

“Do you want me to find you a new one?” Dawn asked gently, supposing that Seb had torn up the last in a moment of rage. 

Sebastian took a deep breath and an uncharacteristic look of hatred appeared on his young features, his jaw set. He shook his head. 

“I don’t need him anymore,” he explained simply, his tone hard.

Dawn was worried but did not show it. Instead she smiled, scooped the pieces into her hand and then left with them, leaving Sebastian to his morning stretches in training for the army. 

Verity would have to know about this, because Sebastian’s religion was very important to him. Dawn had witnessed him cling to it in times of great stress and knew he prayed every night without fail to his God. 

Dawn wanted to believe this was simply an act of rebelliousness that came from growing up and going to a new school, being exposed to different values and ideas, but she knew this was not the case. Sebastian seemed to have finally, after years of teetering on the edge of it, snapped. But what could she do? How could you help a boy who refused to talk about emotion? Dawn was close to Sebastian, yes, but she wasn’t close enough to ask direct questions. Their relationship was built on content silences and a mutual sort of respect and support. The only person who would be able to get through to him now was Jim. And Dawn was honestly worried about what that meant.


	19. Side Effects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's new tablets make him very difficult to protect.

Jim’s new tablets seemed to be making him rather more emotional than normal. He went through periods of manic highs during which he cackled, hit Sebastian, giggled, danced, sang, hummed and complained about people cheerfully, but also suffered horrendous lows which left him crying, sulking, scratching the back of his hand with a sharp pencil and sometimes falling silent for hours at a time. 

Sebastian tried his best to watch over him during this difficult time, even though it was a near impossible task. Jim often acted as though he hated Seb, calling him a coward or a worthless idiot, and that was tough for Sebastian to hear, but he told himself firmly that it was better that Jim took his aggression and unhappiness out on him rather than take it out on himself as he had taken to doing often when Sebastian wasn’t around to wrestle the pencils or compasses away from him. 

On school days Frank and Dawn had the task of caring for Jim, because he was allowed to not attend his special school for two weeks while he adjusted to his medication. This was eventful. Frank was called every name under the sun and also managed to lose Jim countless times. The nine year old refused to be pitied by a ‘lanky moron’ and on one afternoon decided to fill Frank’s shoes with cold baked beans. The resulting shout and squelching noise brought Jim a momentary shot of joy, even though he was sent to the cooler for his trouble. 

Dawn, on the other hand, was treated differently to Frank. Jim still called her fat and ugly when he was feeling frustrated, but most of the time he tried to restrain himself from being too hurtful. He could easily have put the beans in Dawn’s shoes as well, because they were right next to Frank’s and he had plenty left in the tin, but he decided not to as his own little way of letting Dawn know he thought she was an okay person. And anyway, Sebastian liked her, which meant Jim almost did too. 

On the first Saturday after Jim came home from the hospital, Jim was hyper and manic and made a lot of orders and demands that Sebastian couldn’t possibly obey. 

“Steal me chocolate!” he said excitedly, bouncing on the bed even though his arm was still in a cast and Sebastian kept shooting it concerned glances. The blond was standing awkwardly, staring up at Jim who was on the top bunk with a slight grimace, as though ready to spring forwards and catch Jim should he look like he was about to topple over. “No! I want icing sugar mix. The gloopy one. In a bowl. Get me some of that! Actually, no. I want chocolate. Seb? Go on then. I said I want chocolate. Get me some!” 

The eleven year old chewed on his lower lip and then shook his head. 

“Not if you’re going to bounce,” he said, disobeying Jim gently, something he had started to do over the past few days, knowing it was for the greater good. After all, he didn’t want Jim to get hurt or be in trouble if he could help it. 

Jim pouted and decided to bounce even higher, making the bed springs whine worryingly. It was lucky he was so small, because if Sebastian had jumped with that much enthusiasm he would have banged his head on the ceiling. 

“You’ll hurt your arm again,” Sebastian warned him, sticking to his guns. “And then you’ll be back in the hospital.”

“I love bouncing, Sebby!” Jim remarked gleefully, shouting over the last part of Sebastian’s sentence. 

“I mean it, cut it out,” Sebastian countered. 

“Nope,” Jim declared, popping the ‘p’. 

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Jim!”

“Sebastian!”

Seeing that they had reached a stalemate and eager to test the reactions of his new and assertive Sebastian, Jim gave a smirk and then jumped higher than before, closing his eyes on the descent and allowing himself to fall. 

Sebastian reacted in an instant, springing up and holding out his arms, jaw set as he tried to catch Jim without knocking against his broken arm. 

Jim landed with a little ‘oof’ and opened his eyes, surprised and slightly impressed to find himself and Sebastian on the floor. Seb had taken the impact, of course, and was now grimacing and blinking at Jim with frustrated blue eyes. Jim just stuck out his tongue. Perhaps it would be fun to allow Sebastian to be a bit more disobedient, he thought to himself. It was entertaining to wind him up and Jim liked his adoring glare. 

The nine year old clambered off Sebastian as though nothing had happened and deliberately stepped on his face with his cold bare foot. Seb sat up slowly, checked nothing was broken and then narrowed his eyes at Jim. 

“Why did you do that?” he asked simply. 

Jim shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. 

Dawn raced into the room at that moment, having heard the almighty thump. She glanced at Jim, who looked smug and unharmed, and then at Sebastian, who was sitting on the floor looking dazed and angry. 

“Are you two alright?” she asked. “Who fell?” 

Jim sashayed on the spot and did a delighted twirl. “I fell off the top bunk,” he explained as though describing an event he was proud of. “Sebastian decided to save me. Then I stepped on his face.” 

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed even further and Jim gave a smirk. 

“By accident,” he added sweetly. 

Dawn frowned a bit but nodded her head. 

“Are you okay, Seb?” she asked, receiving a glare from Jim who had recently become so protective of Sebastian that nobody could talk to him without Jim being involved. 

The blond nodded and got to his feet easily. Dawn gave him a weak smile and then disappeared from the room, telling Bradley off for playing games at the top of the stairs as she went. 

“By accident?” Sebastian questioned when Dawn was out of earshot, voice low, still determined not to let Jim get away with his little game. 

“Sebaaaastian,” Jim drawled cheerfully. “Do you really think I would step on your face on purpose?” 

Sebastian sighed. “Yes.” 

The nine year old giggled unnervingly and went to sit on Sebastian’s bed. Seb was just pleased he didn’t decide to climb the ladder to the top bunk again to resume his jumping, so he didn’t say anything. 

“Do you know what would be fun?” Jim asked, as Sebastian came to sit beside him, rubbing his arms and scratching the back of his head, which had smacked painfully on the floor when they fell. 

Seb shook his head. 

“A pillow fight. Like in films. When I was in hospital I saw a film on the telly where everyone was hitting each other with pillows and feathers went everywhere.” 

“I don’t think there are feathers in these pillows,” Sebastian pointed out sounding unenthusiastic. 

“Hit me with a pillow,” Jim demanded. 

Sebastian shook his head again. “You’ll hurt your arm. They said you were supposed to relax while you got better.” 

“Give me that pillow,” Jim ordered instead, pointing at the one Seb was leaning on. With a sigh, Sebastian obeyed. Jim snatched it from him and brandished it in the air with his good arm. Without any further ado, he began to hit Sebastian in the face with it. 

Seb held up his hands to shield his face and then grabbed the pillow mid swing. He gave it a tug and it flew out of Jim’s hand. Jim pouted and looked like he was about to slip into a sulk. 

“I’m only trying to look after you,” Sebastian explained desperately, noticing the scratches on the back of Jim’s hand and blinking at them tiredly. 

“Maybe I don’t want you to look after me. Maybe I don’t want anyone,” Jim declared, dark eyes challenging. 

“Tough luck,” Sebastian said simply, closing his eyes and getting comfortable on his bed with his arms folded behind his head. 

Jim looked positively outraged at being ignored and then looked briefly worried when Sebastian continued to refuse to acknowledge him. He eventually decided to shuffle up to Seb’s side of the bed and lay down beside him. 

“You’re more angry now,” he pointed out quietly, with wonder. “And you’re more protective. All because I fell down the stairs.” 

Sebastian didn’t answer him. Jim had recently taking to psychoanalysing him with alarming accuracy, and it deeply unnerved Sebastian. 

“I think you’re terrified I’m going to die,” Jim whispered, knowing from the way Seb’s body had tensed that he had touched a nerve. “You’re scared you won’t be there one day and I’ll hang myself from the top bunk bed like my Daddy tried to-“ 

Sebastian’s eyes shot open suddenly and he sat up, pushing Jim hard onto the mattress and pinning him there. Jim gasped for a moment, but quickly recovered himself, grinning with anticipation. 

“You’re not going to hang yourself, understand?” Sebastian growled. Jim blinked a bit but continued to grin. 

“I said Do. You. Understand?” Sebastian growled again, this time pushing Jim hard so that he made a tiny noise of fear and uncertainty. He had never seen Sebastian this physically angry with him, only with the other children. Jim doubted Sebastian would actually hit him, but the threat was still there. 

“No,” he said clearly, although he was starting to feel scared now, because Sebastian’s eyes were so hard. He had to push Sebastian’s limits to test him though, even if it meant getting beaten up. 

“If you kill yourself, I will kill myself straight after you and hunt down your ghost,” Sebastian hissed, grunting a bit and then snarling. 

Jim swallowed, his dark eyes suddenly wide with genuine fear and surprise. Sebastian looked like he was capable of anything. It was what Bradley must have seen before he was beaten up that time. Sebastian was terrifying. 

Maybe it had been a bad decision to push Sebastian after what he had done to himself? Seb needed retraining. He didn’t respond with obedience anymore, he responded with authority. 

“You’re- you’re hurting me,” Jim panted out as he felt Sebastian’s fingers tighten on his shoulders. 

Jim saw a sudden glimpse of the old Sebastian and in a moment he was freed, Seb jumping back as though burned.

By the time Jim had pushed himself upright Sebastian was hunched up at the opposite end of the bed looking horrified and disgusted with himself. 

Jim stared at Sebastian, shivering slightly, and curled into a ball, back against the wall. 

“You weren’t ever supposed to do that,” Jim whispered, deep in thought, pale fingers clasped together. 

“I don’t want you to die,” Sebastian said. 

“You weren’t supposed to do that,” Jim repeated.

“Please don’t hurt yourself, Jim.” 

“You weren’t supposed to do that!” Jim shrieked, his dark eyes sharpening, his happy mood disintegrating and twisting into rage. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” Sebastian tried desperately. “I’m sorry.” 

Jim crawled towards Sebastian in as fearsome a manner as he could muster, holding his broken arm awkwardly. Seb remained where he was, wondering if he was going to get hit again. He knew he deserved to be. 

“If you ever, ever do anything like that to me again, I will kill you,” Jim promised darkly. “I will make you hurt so badly you will scream. I will cut you open with my scissors and pull out your insides.” 

“Okay,” Sebastian said weakly. “I know.” 

“I always wanted to cut someone’s skin off, so don’t think I wouldn’t do it. I want to see what you look like on the inside, Sebastian. I always wanted to. Don’t make me do it.” 

Jim’s face was so serious, his eyes so fiery and wild that Sebastian knew he was telling the truth. 

The nine year old reached out with his good arm and poked Sebastian right between his eyes, suddenly descending into a fit of the giggles, scaring Seb with the speed at which he switched from murderous to a happy kid. 

“I still want chocolate,” he whined, using his baby voice, the one he used whenever he wanted something. “Sebby, get me chocolate.” 

“Right… I think there’s some in the kitchen,” Sebastian mumbled, extremely disconcerted but trying to hide it. “I’ll go and grab some…”

Jim shook his head, grinning so broadly now that he looked absolutely insane. “First thing’s first,” he commanded. “Cuddle me. Now.” 

Sebastian obeyed, wrapping his arms around Jim easily, hugging him tight to his body, being careful of his arm. He was so keen to make amends that he didn’t complain when Jim’s sharp little nails dug into his sides as a punishment. Jim sighed and snuggled right up, pushing Sebastian against the wall. 

“Who’s the cleverest?” Jim sighed. 

“You are.” 

“And who’s the most important?” 

“You.” 

“Now you get to choose a question,” Jim mumbled contently. 

“Um… I don’t have one,” Sebastian admitted, heart still hammering in his chest after witnessing Jim’s funny turn. 

“You’re so useless,” Jim whispered. “But that’s okay. Poor ‘Bastian…” 

“I’m not useless,” Sebastian said weakly. “You know I’m not useless. It’s not true.” 

“Everything I say is true,” Jim responded, pulling away from Sebastian and unexpectedly thumping him in the chest as hard as he could. “Chocolate. I want some. Now.” 

Sebastian slid off the bed and obediently left the room. He only realised that his hands were shaking as he tried to grip the bannister on the way down the stairs.


	20. Jim's New Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim finds a way of making money and Sebastian is growing up fast.

At ten years old, Jim was distressed that he hadn’t grown much. Sebastian was starting to get lanky at twelve, almost comically so because his hands and feet had suddenly grown. Jim called him a clown sometimes, but really he was quite jealous of the other boy, who looked so much like a proper man should. When Jim looked at himself in the mirror, all he saw were two large dark eyes with long lashes and pale skin. His hair was fluffy and made him look sweet, something he hated being called but often was by old ladies in shops. He wanted a superhero jaw like Seb’s and he wanted blue eyes like Seb’s, that looked bored and thoughtful at the same time. Despite being tall, Sebastian wasn’t clumsy, he was athletic, and Jim felt it was deeply unfair that he should get all the luck. He wasn’t as brainy as Jim was, but he was still very clever and he had lots of friends too. Jim hadn’t met the much talked of Sophie and Newt, but he was distrustful of them, especially Sophie who sometimes gave Sebastian things her father had cooked at home. 

School had been, for a long while after breaking his arm, absolute hell. 

He had always been a lonely child, ostracised by the other children back in Dublin because his family were poor and he was so tiny and clever. The boys threw cans at him and called him a ‘sissy girl’ because he wasn’t very good at fighting and couldn’t play football. They called him a lot of other names too, that Jim didn’t even understand at the time. He could have found out what they meant, but he didn’t want to. It was better to pretend he was above it all and that he did not care. He told himself that every night as he hugged himself and tried to ignore the baby crying or his parents arguing. He was better than everyone else and the people who teased him were mere idiots who weren’t worth his time. He would find a way to make them suffer one day, when he was more powerful than them and capable of making them feel scared. 

At his new school where all the students were incredibly bright, he had found himself more unhappy than ever before. The students made fun of his accent and liked to dangle him over the toilets, just to hear him scream and start crying. Jim was petrified of germs and he imagined he could feel all sorts of diseases crawling over him until he had managed to have a bath. Sebastian looked at him oddly too as he scratched his skin raw and shifted around, like he maybe thought he was mad. Jim preferred to be thought of as mad than for Sebastian to know how bad things now were. 

A couple of students at his special school had formed a sort of group. They bullied the other pupils and the teachers seemed unable or unwilling to control them. They were led by a boy named Paul and a girl named Carrie, both of whom Jim hated. They were much older than him, at fifteen, although Jim didn’t believe they were cleverer. Sometimes Jim didn’t show people how smart he was at school because the tasks he was asked to do were boring, and he wanted to keep some things to himself. After all, it was better to be underestimated, he decided, because that way he had more power. 

Paul and Carrie ‘recruited’ Jim one Thursday, cornering him in an empty classroom and giving him a proposition. After some gentle threats and bribery, Jim agreed to their terms. 

Money meant power, Jim knew, and he wanted power more than almost anything. Carrie and Paul were willing to pay him ten pounds a week if he did what they said, and that was an offer Jim simply couldn’t refuse, not knowing as he did what it was to be truly poor. Living in care meant you had to share everything and you never had anything for yourself. You hardly ever got treats and you never got nice surprises. Jim knew that as soon as he was eighteen he would have nothing to his name and so it was practical, he reasoned, to start making a living for himself. 

Sebastian wouldn’t approve, of course, but it wasn’t any of his business. Jim was half doing it for him anyway, so sometimes he could maybe buy Sebastian one of his beloved comics, or a new book, not a nasty stained borrowed one from the library that had to be given back. 

It wasn’t the stealing itself that Jim thought Seb would have a problem with, it was the danger, the high risk of the situations he was finding himself in. Being tiny meant he could be helped through half open windows and sneak through broken fences, but it also made him vulnerable. One time, on his quest to steal Paul the jewelery from an old lady’s bungalow, he’d been attacked by a dog. It was a small one, and Jim had scrambled away, but the experience left him shaken. Another time, the young couple who owned the house Jim was crawling through had arrived back too early, and he’d been forced to hide. He almost started crying when he saw their legs go past the sofa he was concealed under, but he took his chance when they went upstairs to let himself out of the front door.

On those days when he did well, Paul let him have a bit more money. Jim had once used his initiative to steal Paul a bottle of expensive whiskey from the house of an old man and he’d been rewarded with a pat on the back and a bar of chocolate. 

The best reward, though, was that the group no longer targeted him when they wanted to bully someone. He was useful to them and so they tried to keep him relatively content. They still scared him sometimes, to keep him in line, but he didn’t get his head flushed again, nor did he have his things stolen. Jim felt powerful, and that felt good. 

Jim kept his money hidden in a pair of socks in his bedroom and spent a lot of time sitting cross legged on the floor counting it out and putting it in piles. He usually did this when Sebastian did his after school athletics and swimming and he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. He would have to tell Seb soon, though. Just because he was bursting to share his secret with someone, and no matter how disapproving Seb was, he wouldn’t tell on him. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim decided to surprise Sebastian when he came home from swimming. He cornered him on his way to the bathroom where he was headed to wash the chlorine off himself. 

“You can’t come in,” Sebastian mumbled, shaking his head as Jim moved towards the bathroom with him. “Rules say you can’t.” 

Jim rolled his eyes. 

“Since when have we cared about rules? This is important, anyway, I don’t want to be overheard. I have something to tell you.” 

Sebastian sighed and reluctantly allowed Jim to slip into the bathroom with him. The blond turned on the new showerhead that Verity had recently had installed and then shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. 

“Go on then, I need to shower.” 

“I won’t look,” Jim promised. He didn’t understand Sebastian’s newfound desire for privacy and felt offended by it. It felt as though Sebastian didn’t trust him. 

Seb crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Just tell me what you wanted to tell me,” he said evenly, sitting on the side of the bath. 

“I’m not sure if I want to now,” Jim muttered, pouting. “You’re in a bad mood.” 

“I’m trying to shower!” 

“See what I mean?” Jim pointed out. “You’re moody.” 

The twelve year old sniffed and then shrugged his shoulders. He felt slightly embarrassed. 

“I’m not fucking moody,” Sebastian sighed. “I’m just tired.” 

“You said the f-word, which proves you’re moody,” Jim said, leaning against the towel rail. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong with you.” 

Jim’s eyes blazed. “Who said there was something wrong with me?” he demanded, glaring. “I said I needed to tell you something, not that there was anything wrong with me.” 

Sebastian glanced wistfully at the warm shower and then sighed again. “I’m getting in. Close your eyes,” he grunted. 

Jim turned his back furiously and listened as Sebastian took off his shirt and trousers and climbed into the tub. 

“I was going to let you know that I’ve made some money,” he announced, over the sound of the splashing water. 

“How?” Sebastian demanded. 

“You’re not going to like it,” Jim said simply. “I’ve been stealing things.” 

Sebastian, who had done his fair share of stealing, didn’t react particularly strongly to this. 

“Yeah, and?” 

Jim could feel his irritation levels rising. Here he was trying to tell the truth to Sebastian, to trust him with a secret, and the stupid twelve year old was too busy washing and being moody to appreciate it. 

“I’ve made about two hundred pounds,” Jim announced proudly, waiting for the reaction he knew would come. 

There was a moment of silence, and then Seb let out a low whistle. “Fucking hell.” 

Sebastian, along with growing more and more secretive and serious of late, had also taken to swearing far more than he ever had before. Jim was used to it by now. It amused him. 

The shower was turned off with a beep and Jim saw a tanned arm reach out and grab a scratchy blue towel. 

Jim saw this as his permission to turn around. Seb swore again and held up the towel protectively in front of him. 

“I told you not to look!” he exclaimed, wrapping the towel around himself swiftly. 

“Well, you were still wearing your swimming shorts,” Jim pointed out fairly, torn between wanting to grin at how uncomfortable Seb was, and wanting to get cross at the overreaction of the blond. 

“So how are you getting this money?” Sebastian asked suddenly, as he dried himself, looking shifty, tips of his ears pink. 

Jim watched a few droplets of water fall from Seb’s blond hair, which looked darker because it was wet. 

“Stealing from houses and then getting paid for what I can find.” 

Sebastian stopped drying himself. “What houses? When?” 

“There are people at my school who are older than me,” Jim explained with a sigh that suggested he was incredibly bored with the whole thing, although he was really a bit nervous about Sebastian’s reaction. “They organise it all. I get driven to places when I don’t have lessons or I have private study time. Usually I crawl through windows and things like that. “

“And why can’t they do the nicking themselves?” Seb demanded, blue eyes narrowed. 

Jim shrugged. “I’m small enough to get away with it, less likely to get caught.” 

Sebastian shook his head and started to dry his hair awkwardly with the edge of his towel. 

“Sounds like some sick initiation test to me,” he commented. 

“Well,” Jim said awkwardly. “I thought I had better tell you.” 

Sebastian swallowed and then nodded, understanding that logic somehow.

“Right, well, don’t get caught,” he said. 

“Is that all you’re going to say?” Jim asked doubtfully. Sebastian nodded grimly. 

“I can’t stop you doing it. You do whatever you want. You don’t listen to me.” 

Jim beamed broadly, knowing that to be true. 

“You know, Seb,” Jim said thoughtfully as he handed him his clean shirt to put back on. “There’s no reason to hide your bruises from me. I know you fight people all the time.” 

Sebastian looked confused for a moment and then blushed crimson. “Oh, yeah. Right.” 

Jim personally thought the few bruises he had seen on Sebastian’s tanned chest were quite nice to look at. He didn’t understand why Sebastian would have been so scared he might see them. He knew about the scars on his back already, and they were far, far worse. They were supposed to be best friends and not have secrets, and yet Sebastian had started treating him oddly. 

“Do you still love me?” Jim questioned quietly, head tilted to one side as he nibbled his lower lip with worry. 

Sebastian’s entire body language softened, shoulders slumping. He gave Jim a tired sort of grin. 

“You know I do.” 

“You’re an idiot,” Jim commented fondly, trying not to beam with relief. “That was the right answer though, if you’d said anything else you would have been in trouble.” 

“You should come swimming with me some time,” Sebastian suggested. He knew that Jim felt left out because he was younger, and Seb too ached to spend more time with Jim, things were just difficult what with his work at school and his after school clubs. He needed to stay fit and healthy for the army. 

Jim grimaced and shook his head. “I can’t. Besides, I don’t like the smell.” 

Seb shrugged and then glanced at his boxer shorts which were on the bathroom floor. Jim picked them up for him and handed them over, glancing at them before Seb took them out of his grip. They were proper pants, men’s ones. Jim felt another spike of jealousy. 

‘I’m going to count my money. You can come and count it with me when you’re dressed,” he decreed, turning on his heel with a tiny huff and marching out of the bathroom. 

Seb just stared after him, eyebrow slightly raised, wondering if he’d ever stop being confused when it came to Jim.


	21. Jim's Decline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's mental health is spiralling downward and Sebastian is finding him increasingly difficult to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of self harm and suicide. May be triggering for some people.

“I’ll give you ten pounds if you get me your penknife,” Jim offered. 

Sebastian shook his head, arms crossed, looking grave. 

“Twenty pounds, then,” Jim amended. 

“Not happening.” 

“Fifty pounds and we’ll say no more about it.” 

“You’re not having the penknife, what do you think I am?” Sebastian demanded. 

He was trying to be stern but he was finding it difficult. When Jim was in one of these moods Sebastian was torn between wanting to wrestle him to the ground and sit on him until he became less destructive, and hug him until he stopped feeling sad. Neither of these approaches worked, though, they’d been tried and tested, along with every other method Seb had thought of to try and keep Jim calm when the black moods hit. When restrained Jim started to kick and bite. When hugged Jim started to either cry more or start hissing. 

Sebastian’s rage at Verity currently knew no bounds. He had gone to her in confidence two days ago to try and explain Jim’s current mental state. It had taken him a lot of courage to do so, and he was still suffering immense guilt for ‘betraying’ Jim, not that he’d given away anything personal. Verity’s response was to say that Jim was undergoing therapy already and that he was currently getting the best help possible. Seb had kicked over a chair and stormed out after that, swearing at the top of his lungs, using so many profanities in quick succession that Harry and Chloe had started clapping. 

The ‘best help possible’ wasn’t going to stop Jim from hanging himself. Jim only saw his therapist twice a week and that simply wasn’t enough in Seb’s opinion. He had witnessed Jim’s moods getting worse and worse and nobody but he and Dawn seemed to care. 

Dawn had tried her best. She had bought Jim a magazine the day before, and even given him chocolate dessert instead of pasta for dinner. She had been in trouble with Verity for that, saying it was reinforcing the idea that Jim could sulk and get what he wanted. Dawn personally thought that didn’t matter, what did matter was that Jim went to bed with something in his stomach. 

Sebastian had kept his eye on Jim as much as humanly possible. Jim clearly enjoyed the attention, but it didn’t seem to improve his mental wellbeing. He used Sebastian as his own personal punch bag and liked to insult him when the mood took him. Seb had learned to almost tune it out when Jim called him useless or pathetic. After all, Jim couldn’t help it, could he? He was ill. 

“I won’t open the veins right up,” Jim promised sweetly, blinking imploringly at Sebastian. “I’ll only slice a bit.” 

Sebastian was horrified by this notion and also by the baby voice Jim was using to express this particularly disturbing thought. 

“You don’t have to hurt yourself,” Sebastian told him evenly. He had learned to be calm in situations like this, because it meant Jim also remained more grounded. “You can hurt me instead if you want.” 

“Did that yesterday,” Jim complained, flopping down on his bed and closing his eyes. “It’s not as fun as usual. You don’t mind anymore.” 

Seb swallowed. 

“Jim… do you think you should ring your number?” Sebastian suggested lightly. Jim blew a childish raspberry in retaliation. 

Jim’s number had been given to him by his therapist. He was to ring it in times of great stress or when he might want to harm himself. Sebastian thought the idea was a good one, but unlikely to work. Jim did not want pity, and that was what he would see it as. 

“If you don’t give me your penknife which you stole,” Jim emphasised. “I’ll just wait until you’re sleeping and I’ll do it then.” 

Realising the situation was getting beyond his control, Sebastian considered relenting. A cut was better than Jim killing himself, wasn’t it? And he could supervise to make sure he didn’t go too far… 

Jim had read his mind and was already choosing his words carefully. 

“You could look after me,” he pointed out in his tiny voice. “It would be quick and then I wouldn’t be sad anymore.” 

Sebastian was wise enough to know he was being manipulated. Jim only used that voice to play on his conscience, his brotherly instincts. Jim might be a genius, but Seb was smart enough to see through a fair few of Jim’s ploys and diversionary tactics. 

“Tell you what,” Sebastian suggested. “I’ll kick Harry out of the telly room and we can go watch something together.” 

Jim shook his head. “No. I’m not in the mood.” 

“How about we go and hide Frank’s things?” Seb asked hopefully. “We could steal his phone. Maybe mess up his contact list?” 

“Sebastian,” Jim said sternly, tone far older suddenly. “Playing a stupid prank isn’t going to get rid of the buzzing noise. It isn’t going to make my skin stop prickling. It isn’t going to stop the voices from-“ 

“Voices?” Seb cut in quickly. “You’ve never said anything about voices before.”

Jim didn’t respond. The voices were relatively new, but he wasn’t sure they would last for long. They weren’t solid, not exactly, but he could feel the words. Useless. Broken. Wrong. Insane. 

“Are you hearing voices?” Seb pushed on, moving to stand right by Jim’s bed. He tentatively placed his palm on Jim’s forehead. It was cool and clammy. 

“Yes, I am,” Jim said unexpectedly. 

Seb chewed on his lower lip in deep thought. 

“They’re telling me things, Seb,” Jim continued, starting to writhe about a bit dramatically. 

“What are they telling you?” Seb asked quietly. Jim thought it was terribly amusing how nice and calm Sebastian was being. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel so awful and tired. 

“They’re telling me to kill the moron with his massive stupid hand on my head,” he said bluntly, rolling his eyes in exasperation. 

Sebastian withdrew his hand, looking hurt that Jim had just played with him like that. He took a step away from the bed and watched Jim steadily. 

“So there aren’t voices?” Sebastian confirmed. 

“Obviously not!” Jim shouted, sitting up sharply and glaring at Sebastian, insanity shining in his eyes. “You’re getting on my nerves, Sebastian! You keep on following me about and watching me and making out like I’m mad!” 

Sebastian shook his head quickly. “I never said you were mad. I don’t think you’re-“ 

“You’re not my brother!” Jim shrieked furiously. “You think you are, but you’re not! You can’t save me! I don’t want you pitying me and feeling sorry for me! You’re an idiot! I don’t need to waste my time with you! Be gone! Be gone with you!” 

Sebastian took a step back, obviously wounded by the emotional onslaught. 

“Shoo!” Jim screamed, waving his hands madly at Seb. “Get out of my bedroom! Get out! Get out! Shoo!” 

With a devastated expression, Sebastian lifted his hands up in a gesture of surrender and then ran from the room, narrowly avoiding being hit by the clock Jim had just aimed at his head. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

It wasn’t Sebastian’s fault that Frank came to get Jim and take him to the cooler, but he felt like it was as he saw Jim being carried down the stairs, screeching madly and kicking and lashing out at the man. 

Things were getting worse and worse, and Sebastian couldn’t work out why that was. He had considered that it might be Jim’s new ‘job’, but he doubted that was the case. Jim was fiercely proud of his earnings and he often told Sebastian stories about his trips to various houses and his narrow escapes. They unsettled Seb, but he listened anyway. 

Jim’s parents back in Dublin had been contacted, or so it was whispered about at dinner that night where Jim could be heard distantly screaming from the cooler where he was locked with his therapist who had rushed over to lend a hand. 

Seb couldn’t eat his dinner. The others thought the whole thing was terribly exciting, but Seb thought it was horrific. Jim wouldn’t want his parents to visit, he would see that as an insult to his independence. Sebastian tried to explain this to Frank, but he just sighed and told Sebastian to let the adults sort it out because they knew what they were doing. Seb couldn’t shake the feeling Frank blamed him for Jim’s outburst. He supposed it must seem that way to someone who hadn’t been there. 

Dawn came to see Sebastian right before he went to bed, wearing a weary and sympathetic smile. She explained that Jim’s parents were going to come and visit to see if that might calm him down and that they would be arriving as soon as possible. 

“Cheer up, soldier,” she said. “You’ve been a good friend.” 

Sebastian was panicked by her tone. Why had she used the past tense? 

“He hates his mum,” Sebastian told Dawn hurriedly. “Can’t you stop her coming over? He won’t want to see them. He’ll get worse.” 

“It’s not my call,” Dawn said helplessly. “It’s Verity’s decision to make. Right or wrong.” 

It sounded like Dawn thought it was the wrong decision to make as well. That made Seb feel slightly better. 

“I could look after him,” Seb volunteered just before Dawn left. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. I swear I wouldn’t. He could come sleep in my room again, like he used to…” 

Sebastian knew the chances of this happening were slim, so he didn’t feel too disappointed when Dawn shook her head. 

“You can’t fix him, Sebastian,” she said kindly. “I know you want to, but he’s not well. He isn’t in his right mind at the moment. Please don’t feel bad about this evening.” 

Sebastian sniffed, feeling tears welling in his eyes. 

“I asked God to fix him,” Seb admitted gruffly, hanging his head. “Really thought He would.”

So the religion wasn’t completely gone, Dawn noted. It wasn’t Sebastian’s belief in God that had been shaken, it was his faith in him. 

“Well, fingers crossed Jim will get better soon,” she said helplessly. “Lots of people do. Sometimes people just need a bit of help to manage their emotions.” 

Dawn went to leave again but Sebastian stopped her. 

“Will you tell him I’m here please?” he asked. “Just if you go check on him. Can you just tell him I’m right here.” 

Dawn nodded her head. “I’ll tell him,” she agreed. “Goodnight, Seb.”


	22. Mrs Moriarty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's mother arrives for a short meeting.

Jim’s mother arrived early the next morning while most of the children were still asleep. Sebastian padded downstairs at six o’clock, knowing the place would be mostly deserted for a while. The other kids liked to sleep in on Saturdays. 

He sat in the kitchen, waiting for the sound of a car pulling up on the street outside, drinking a glass of orange juice. Jim was still in his bedroom, Frank having slept the night there with him to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. For once in his life Sebastian was thankful for Frank being around. He felt certain that had Jim been left alone, he might not have ever seen him again. With Jim being so suddenly self destructive, Sebastian’s mind could no longer look around with the innocence of a child. Every item he spotted around the home was a potential weapon for Jim to use against himself, an object to aid him in his quest for self punishment and torture. The knives were routinely locked away every night, but Sebastian knew that you could do just as much damage with a fork if you put your mind to it. Or a broken glass. 

Dawn made Sebastian some toast while she cleaned the kitchen up, also on edge, apprehensive about the visit. Sebastian was on his second piece, chewing without thought, when the doorbell rang. He and Dawn looked at each other and both moved to the doorway to peer out down the hall. 

The lady that Verity let into the house was a petite woman with the same large dark eyes as her son. There were grey smudges beneath them and her long lashes cast even more of a shadow, making her look greatly fatigued. She was very slim, unhealthily so, and in her hand was a carrier bag. She clutched it with pale, thin fingers, (again Sebastian noted they were just like Jim’s) and shook her head when Verity offered to take it from her. Sebastian couldn’t hear what the two women were saying, but Jim’s mother had a very strong lilting accent, far more pronounced than Jim’s. She was ushered into Verity’s office before Sebastian could get a closer look at her. 

Dawn encouraged Sebastian to finish his toast while she went to fetch Jim. Seb did so obediently, barely noticing as the dry toast slid down his throat, scratching it. Jim hated his mother, truly hated her. He had described her as a vile sort of woman, like a witch in a fairy tale. Sebastian had to admit she didn’t look particularly cruel at first glance, although she did seem tired. Her hair was longer than it had been in the photograph Sebastian had seen of her, and she was dressed far more blandly in a grey dress. It seemed that Jim’s father and sister weren’t going to turn up after all. Seb wondered if Jim would be pleased or upset by this. 

It didn’t startle Seb when he heard screaming coming from upstairs. Jim had done so on and off all night, and all of the children had simply got used to it. Sebastian could make out certain words, like ‘moron’, ‘idiot’ and ‘doofus’, but the rest were mixed in with his Irish shrieks. 

Jim was chaperoned into the kitchen ten minutes later by both Frank and Dawn. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his lashes damp with tears. 

“They’re making me see her,” he told Sebastian in a voice that was scratchier than usual from all his shouting. He sounded quietly furious. Sebastian thought he could hear a little hopelessness too. 

This was the first time Jim had spoken to him since his outburst, but Sebastian had already forgiven him. He didn’t even mention Jim’s cruel words. He smiled a bit sadly, trying to show his unspoken support.

“But on the plus side she didn’t bring the brat,” he added, scooting over to sit himself on Sebastian’s lap. Frank almost went to say something, having been informed by Verity that Jim was no longer to use Sebastian as a seat, but he stopped. Jim wasn’t currently screaming, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

Jim leaned over to take a bite out of the piece of toast Sebastian was holding. It was a tiny one and he swallowed the toast with great difficulty. 

“There,” he announced to both Dawn and Frank. “I’ve had breakfast. Now you can leave me be.” 

The pair of adults glanced at each other, neither of them wanting to be the one to point out that Jim didn’t have a choice in this morning’s event. 

“The meeting’s being held in Verity’s office,” Frank told Jim cautiously. His ginger hair was sticking up at odd angles from an apparently sleepless night. “You can go in as soon as you’re ready.” 

Jim sighed and rested his head back on Sebastian’s shoulder. Seb noticed that Jim’s right forearm was scratched and red. He tried not to look at it. 

“Sebastian will have to come too,” Jim decreed. “Or else I won’t go in. I’ll start screaming again and I’ll hurt myself.” 

Frank frowned. Dawn also looked unhappy about this. It wasn’t Jim’s request that bothered her, it was more the way he was manipulating Sebastian. Despite being fond of the Irish boy, Dawn was finding it increasingly difficult to let Jim get away with the way he addressed Sebastian like a pet. When he was younger it had been more excusable, but he wasn’t growing out of it with age, in fact, he was getting worse.

“I’ll go,” Sebastian said quickly. “I don’t mind. I’ll sit with Jim.” 

“Are you sure?” Dawn asked. “You don’t have to do that, Seb. I’m sure Jim can manage.” 

Sebastian nodded his head. 

“That’s a good boy,” Jim mumbled, hopping off Sebastian’s lap and smoothing his hair down. 

Dawn and Frank led the way down the hall to Verity’s office. Jim watched them both beadily, feeling as though he was being escorted to prison. Dawn’s bottom was too big, he thought to himself furiously. And Frank’s legs were too long. 

Frank gave a mock jaunty knock on the door, and Verity’s muffled voice said ‘come in’. Jim frowned at her silly professional tone. She only ever spoke like that when visitors were around. 

The moment Jim entered the room, Jim’s mother turned her head in a lightning quick motion, her eyes darting to her son. 

“Jimmy!” she exclaimed, her accent so thick that it sounded to Seb like she had said ‘jammy’. She stood up and opened her arms as if expecting a hug. Sebastian slunk back against the wall and sat down in one of the plastic chairs set out for them, escaping the discomfort of being stared at or noticed.

Verity looked unhappy about the fact that Sebastian had just inconspicuously accompanied Jim into the room, but there was nothing she could say about it for now. She would have a word with Frank and Dawn later. 

Jim’s mother’s joy at being reunited with her son was not mirrored on her son’s pale and sulky face. He glanced coldly at her and then looked away, seemingly bored. It was a painful sight, and one that made Sebastian’s stomach twist uncomfortably. For a brief moment Sebastian felt cross with Jim. He would have given anything for a hug from his mother, and there Jim was refusing to accept one from his. The thought passed quickly. Jim’s mother had neglected Jim badly back in Dublin. Jim had every right to be displeased with her. 

Jim’s mother dropped her arms to her sides and swallowed as Jim passed her and took the seat beside Seb. Dawn sat on the other side of Jim, Frank stood in the corner, and Verity was perched in her large chair next to Jim’s mother, overseeing everything. 

“I’ve brought you some more clothes,” the woman revealed hopefully, gesturing at the carrier bag. “And a little card and present from Katie. She misses you so much, Jimmy. You should see her now! A regular little chatterbox so she is. She talks about you all the time. We all do. We miss you very much.” 

She paused for breath, hoping her son might respond to her. He didn’t. 

“Would you like to see a picture of our Katie?” his mother asked optimistically, rummaging in the plastic bag and pulling out a photograph. She held it out across the table. Jim eyed it blankly. After a moment he snatched it from her, made a tutting noise, and then let the photograph flutter to the floor. 

“Now, Jim,” Verity warned in stern tones. “That’s no way to treat-“ 

“Where’s Da?” Jim demanded, ignoring Verity entirely. He crossed his arms and glared at his mother, who seemed to shrink with shame. 

“I’m afraid he couldn’t make it, Jimmy,” she admitted quietly. “He’s not well, you see. He’s lost his job quite recently.” She quickly turned to Verity. “Although he worked ever so hard,” she assured her breathlessly. “I don’t want you thinking we’re that type. My husband works with the council-“

Jim scoffed at that, clearly expressing what he thought of his father and his job. He came across as quite snobby, and Verity looked furious. Sebastian understood, though. Jim felt abandoned by his father and wanted to distance himself from him in any way he could. He cared a lot about power and money, and so the idea of a job with the council probably made Jim feel embarrassed. Seb supposed he was lucky to have a father with a military background. That was a respectable job. That meant his Father was brave. Selfless. 

“Do you suppose he’ll hang himself?” Jim asked bluntly. Sebastian grimaced as tears appeared in Jim’s mother’s eyes. 

“That was a terrible time for us all, Jimmy,” she said desperately, her shoulders starting to shake. “We’re so sorry you saw it. Honestly we are. But he’s getting better, I promise. He’s trying ever so hard, and he’s on new medication. I’m so sorry about it, Jimmy, you have to believe me. I think about it all the time. I wonder if it was that that made you-“

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Made me what?” he demanded. “Made me go mad? Is that what you think I am?”

“No!” the woman said quickly. “I was going to say unhappy. It made you very unhappy. And I know that you still feel unhappy…”

“I think you should all hang yourselves,” Jim announced. “That would make me very happy. Very happy indeed. In fact, you might even ‘cure’ me. You should try it so we can see.”

Verity sat up straighter, furious. 

“Jim, I won’t have you being rude,” she began, but Jim had started giggling and wasn’t listening. His mother was trying not to sob. 

Sebastian felt sick to his stomach. This was like watching a car accident in slow motion. His chest ached, although he wasn’t sure who for. 

“Please Jimmy…” his mother tried. “We love you very much… we’re y-your family…”

“No,” Jim said clearly, shaking his head. “I don’t need you. I don’t want you.” 

Jim turned his head suddenly and glanced at Sebastian. “He’s my family. Not you,” Jim remarked, pointing at the blond. All eyes turned to Sebastian. He felt both proud and embarrassed. Verity was looking more and more infuriated. 

“This is Sebastian,” Dawn cut in quickly, trying to keep her voice cheery. “Jim and Sebastian are very good friends.” 

Jim’s mother gave a watery sort of smile, although she looked surprised. Jim had never had friends before. “I’ve heard about you, Sebastian,” she said, voice shaking. “You’re Jim’s roommate.”

Jim sighed very loudly. “Was my roommate,” he corrected her. “Until the idiot next to you decided we couldn’t stay together anymore. That’s how stupid she is.”

Verity was so used to this sort of behavior from Jim that she merely shook her head tiredly. “I will ask you again to not be rude, Jim,” she reprimanded him. “Show some respect to your mother, please.” 

That made Jim cackle. He swung his skinny legs on his chair, toes pointed and curled. 

“Respect her?” he asked. “She thinks I’m a sinner. Don’t you, Ma?”

Jim’s mother looked uncomfortable. She brushed a strand of dark hair out of her eyes. “I only said that because you were acting out. You were always so difficult to discipline, Jim. I thought if I put the fear of Jeysus into you…”

Ah, thought Seb. There it was. So Jim had been telling him the truth, at least he had been telling true events from his own perspective. His blue eyes narrowed. 

“Jesus wasn’t the son of God, doofus!” Jim shouted across the table. “Jesus was a Jewish man who got killed by idiots! You’re stupid!” 

Jim’s mother’s expression twisted into one Sebastian recognised. She looked livid. 

“James Moriarty!” she exclaimed loudly. “You’ll show some respect to your God and the Lord’s son Jeysus Christ-“ 

“See what I meant?” Jim said to Sebastian, deciding to ignore everybody else in the room. “She’s a loony. Everyone thinks I am, but I’m not. I’m the sane one. They’re all mad.” 

He hopped off his seat and grabbed Sebastian’s hand. His mother’s eyes seemed to bulge. Nobody said anything, but Verity looked like she wanted to drop her head onto the desk. 

“Come along now, Sebastian,” Jim commanded as Seb obediently got to his feet. He wondered if Verity would stop Jim from leaving the room. She still didn’t say a word. 

“Jimmy…” his mother tried, but her son was not listening. 

Dawn got to her feet and followed Jim and Sebastian out of the room, apparently deciding the interview was over. Frank remained in the office with Verity and Jim’s mother and the door clicked shut behind them. 

As soon as they were out of hearing range Jim began to cry, crumpling in a heap on the ground. 

“Don’t you worry, Jim,’ Dawn said kindly, moving to pick him up. He cried louder when she got close so she stopped where she was. A couple of the other children were creeping down the stairs to get a good look at what was going on. Dawn told them to go and wait in the kitchen and she’d make them breakfast. Reluctantly they did as they were told. 

Sebastian crouched down on the floor with Jim and stroked his hair while he sobbed. He slipped one arm under Jim’s skinny knees and wrapped the other behind his back, lifting him into his arms with a grunt of effort. Despite Jim’s small size he was getting too big to be carried like this. 

“I’m taking him to watch telly,” Sebastian mumbled to Dawn, and she nodded her head. She watched them move down the corridor, Sebastian being very careful not to bump Jim’s bare feet on the walls as he went. Jim was clinging to him like a much younger child.

Sebastian laid Jim out on the sofa, placing the pillows behind his head and then sat down on the floor, leaning back against the sofa, legs stretched out in front of him. Jim continued to sniffle hopelessly as Sebastian turned the television on, leaving it on some cartoon neither of them really liked. 

“You know you can tell me what’s wrong, don’t you?” Sebastian said quietly. He wasn’t sure if Jim heard him for a while, because he didn’t respond for what felt like at least a minute. 

“Hush, ‘Bastian,” Jim whispered back eventually. 

When Dawn poked her head through the door to check on the pair of them ten minutes later, they were both fast asleep. Sebastian had his head tilted right back against the sofa and Jim was curled in on himself with one hand in Sebastian’s hair. 

Dawn quietly turned off the television set and closed the door behind her.


	23. Staff Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verity discusses the problem of Jim Moriarty with her staff and attempts to tackle the situation.

“It simply isn’t good enough,” Verity declared. “That was a private meeting, a very personal time for Jim and his mother, and lo and behold in comes Sebastian!” 

Frank hung his head a bit awkwardly and then glanced at Dawn. She seemed composed, apparently used to being told off by Verity, although she kept twisting a strand of blonde hair around her plump finger. 

“I’ve stretched the rules quite enough already. They both have their own rooms, which might I add we don’t have the money to sustain. Why are we catering to Sebastian’s every whim?” 

Dawn looked outraged. Frank grimaced but didn’t speak. It was clear to him that it wasn’t Sebastian’s every whim they were catering to. 

“Sebastian only went in to support his friend-“ Dawn began in a tone of forced respect. 

“No,” Verity cut her off quickly. “It shouldn’t have been allowed.” 

“The kids were sleeping,” Frank intervened finally. “Jim was making a fair bit of fuss. We thought it might calm him down a bit to have Sebastian there. He seems to be the only one he’s responding to.” 

Verity flicked one of the tiny silver balls on the Newton’s cradle on her desk. It began to click rhythmically. Verity found the noise calming, but it put Dawn on edge. 

“Are we going to have to move Sebastian elsewhere?” Verity asked. The question was clearly meant to be rhetorical but Dawn could not help herself from responding in a burst of anger. 

“Or we could have listened to Jim and not dragged his mother over from Dublin,” she said quickly. “He told his therapist, he told me, and he told you. He didn’t want to see her.” 

Verity massaged her own forehead where wrinkles were starting to appear. All her life she’d worked with disturbed and disobedient children. What they needed, in her experience, was a firm but fair hand. They needed to understand that they could not use their past troubles as an excuse to become lazy or anti-social adults. So far she had succeeded in getting a lot of unhappy children back into the community. The problem of Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran was a unique one, however, because she’d never had to deal with full blown codependency in two children before, along with a host of other mental issues. 

“I’m keeping her over here for another week at least,” Verity said tiredly. “I need to talk to her. See if we can get Jim to feel some affection for her again.” 

Dawn shook her head disbelievingly. She might not have been qualified the way Verity was, or have the same level of experience, but she thought the situation was very simple. Jim felt a lack of control due to neglect back in Dublin, which was causing him to want to exert power and control over people now he finally had independence from his family. That, in Dawn’s opinion, explained the threats to harm himself and the way he had taken to talking to people, as though they were his subjects rather than his peers. As for Sebastian, who Dawn had known since he was very young, he wanted to be needed by someone and to have a chance to prove he was capable of giving and receiving love. He thrived on praise, something Verity had never really grasped. And Jim was perfectly happy to give that praise so long as Sebastian did what he wanted. 

“Look, I agree that it’s getting out of hand,” Dawn said slowly. “But I think this is going to have to be a gradual process. It’s delicate.” 

For once Frank seemed to agree with her. He scratched his back and looked incredibly shifty before speaking out. 

“Dawn’s right,” he said. Verity looked shocked by that statement. “If you force Jim to do something, he’ll make sure he does the exact opposite. Last night he told me he was going to open his wrists if I didn’t get out of the lower bunk.” 

“And you did what he commanded?” Verity asked disbelievingly. Frank went red. 

“I slept on the floor,” he admitted. “The situation was dodgy. I didn’t want to push him too far, not in this state.” 

Dawn gave a short nod beside him. 

There was a long pause during which children could be heard laughing from the other room. 

“Time with his mother should sort him out,” Verity said eventually. “That’s what I’ve decided. A child needs their mother, and Jane seems willing.” 

Nobody said anything. 

“I’ve arranged for them to go on a day trip together. Jim can show his mother a bit of the city and they can bond,” Verity continued. Dawn looked like she wanted to shout. Frank kept glancing nervously between the two women. 

“Jim won’t agree to that,’ Dawn said shortly. “He hates her.” 

“I’ve made my decision, thank you,” Verity said sharply. “You might be popular with the children, Miss Young, but you don’t have as much experience as you’d like to think. I’m finding your attitude extremely unprofessional.” 

“I don’t think Jim should be out unattended with his mother,” Frank cut in again. “Not in this state.”  


Verity placed a hand on her Newton’s cradle, stopping its motion. 

“I’m very close to admitting him to the hospital,” Verity revealed quietly. “I won’t have a suicide happening in my home.” 

Dawn’s blue eyes widened with shock.

“So it’s fine for that to happen in the hospital?” she demanded. “As long as it doesn’t sully your good name. Your reputation.” 

Verity ignored Dawn this time. Her bun was starting to unravel untidily and she straightened her necklace before sitting up slightly. 

“I’d like to see Jim,” she told Frank curtly. 

“He’s asleep in the television room,” Dawn mumbled. Frank nodded and got up from his seat, leaving the room. Verity’s eyes seemed to fix on Dawn. 

“What is he doing sleeping in there? The children sleep in their bedrooms only.” 

“He was up all night,” Dawn answered in monotone. She didn’t trust herself not to be rude and she needed this job. Verity was very close to getting rid of her and she knew she couldn’t chance any more outbursts. 

The sound of scuffling and shouting outside the room distracted them both. Verity closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Jim was shrieking as per usual and Frank’s low voice was attempting to calm him down. He was using words like ‘buddy’ and ‘pal’, which Verity thought was the wrong approach entirely. Jim needed a firm hand, that was all. A third person was apparently getting involved, because Jim was screaming ‘Yes! Kick him!’. 

“If that is Sebastian then I am going to lose my temper,” Verity muttered darkly, pulling out her desk drawer and selecting a new pen. She pulled a folder with Jim’s name on it towards her and flicked through it mildly. 

It certainly was Sebastian, because a blond head came into view through the tiny window in the door. Frank opened it and almost had to wrestle Jim in, closing the door behind him with a warning to Seb. 

Frank was panting and looking stressed as he placed Jim down on the seat in front of Verity. Sebastian’s furious face appeared in the window, pressed up against the glass, and so Verity commanded Frank pull down the blind. He did as he was told and Sebastian disappeared from view. 

“I’d like you to see your mother,” Verity said to Jim in a tone that meant she would take no nonsense. Frank examined his shin in the corner where a bruise would soon appear. Sebastian was getting a lot stronger as he hit his teenage years. There were angry thumps outside the room. Sebastian was apparently kicking and punching the wall. 

“Should I go and-“ Dawn began. 

“No,” Verity said bluntly. “He wants attention and he won’t be getting it. Now. Jim. Your mother has kindly agreed to stay here in London for a week and I think it would be an idea for you to spend some time with her. To perhaps show her around.” 

Jim looked awful. He was almost grey with tiredness and his eyes were red. He was blinking a lot and his eyelids kept fluttering closed. “No,” he said simply, crossing his arms over his small chest. “I hate her. You can’t make me.” 

Verity circled a sentence printed in Jim’s folder. Uncooperative and stubborn, it said. 

“I think it would greatly benefit you if-“ 

More banging from outside made Verity pause. Someone else had apparently joined in the assault on the room. 

“He’s summoned reinforcements,” Jim declared with tired gleefulness. 

Verity took a deep breath and decided to ignore this. Dawn would have laughed at the phrase if the situation hadn’t been such a grave one. 

“I am going to send you and your mother out on a short trip together tomorrow, and Dawn will be accompanying you.” 

Jim shook his head. “No, me and ‘Bastian have things to do tomorrow.” 

“Sebastian is a much older boy, and it would be wise if the pair of you-“ 

“Two years,” Jim pointed out angrily. “And I’m twice as clever as him. That evens it all out. He says I’m his best friend, even better than stupid Sophie and stupid Newt and stupid-“ 

“We were talking about your mother,” Verity reminded him. “If you won’t go out with her then I’ll arrange for her to stay for dinner tomorrow. That way we can keep an eye on things.” 

“You mean spy,” spat Jim. “And I won’t eat.” 

“Now, now, Jim, let’s not be-“

“I’ll only eat with Seb,” Jim added. “He’s the only person. Not her. Not you.” 

Verity rubbed her forehead, accidentally getting a smudge of ink above her right eyebrow. 

“Frank, will you let Sebastian in,” she conceded wearily. 

Frank opened the door and Sebastian appeared again, looking ready for a fight. Harry came into view behind him, trying to look just as tough. Seb ignored him. 

“You can’t take him away!” Sebastian shouted. “I won’t let you!” 

“Come in, Sebastian,” Verity called. “Harry, go away.” 

Harry had the door shut in his face as Sebastian slipped in. His hands were fists by his sides, his knuckles red where they had apparently made repetitive contact with the wall. 

“I sincerely hope you haven’t been making a scene, Sebastian,” Verity said strictly. “I’ll have to mark that outburst down on your chart, and that means no football game for you on Friday.” 

“Don’t care,” Sebastian grunted. “Jim was asleep. He doesn’t sleep much and you woke him up. And if you’re gonna try and take him away then you’ll have to fight me. ‘Cause he’s better with me. I can prove it.” 

“For heaven’s sake, settle down,” Verity snapped. “Jim’s mother is coming for a special dinner tomorrow night. You may sit in. I will not, however, stand for you having another tantrum.” 

Sebastian looked outraged. “I didn’t even kick off!” he exclaimed. 

Verity wrote another note in Jim’s folder. Sebastian tried to read it upside down but he could not. 

“Will you be attending the dinner?” Verity asked calmly. 

Sebastian sniffed and then shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, but if she goes off on one and calls him a sinner, then I’m not being all polite. You don’t even know half the stuff she did. You don’t even care about-“ 

Sebastian was interrupted by a loud snore. Jim, unnoticed by everyone, had fallen asleep curled up in his chair. Seb’s expression softened and he approached the chair. Nobody stopped him. Verity clicked her teeth in an irritated fashion as Sebastian very carefully picked Jim up. Jim remained out of it, head slumping against Sebastian’s shoulder with a quiet mewl. 

“I’m gonna put him in his room,” Sebastian said lowly. “He’s better with me. I can look after him just fine.” 

Frank stood up. “I’ll come with you, buddy. Just in case you need help.” 

“Don’t need your help,” Sebastian grunted, although he allowed Frank to open the door for him. The gangly red-head followed the boys out of the room. 

“There is something very wrong there,” Verity commented. Dawn didn’t know if she was being spoken to, or if Verity was muttering to herself. 

“I’ll get started on the lunch,” Dawn said eventually, easing herself out of the too small chair. 

Verity did not answer. She allowed Dawn to leave the room, hearing her chatting kindly to Harry who was apparently still outside. The head care worker pulled another folder out of her desk drawer. The one that said ‘Sebastian Augustus Moran’ on the front. 

She flicked through the first few pages where a birth certificate was photocopied, where badly printed black and white photographs showed a nearly naked blond four year old with extensive bruising and cuts to his body. 

Silently she began to read, making new notes occasionally. In her tidy handwriting she wrote: ‘Sebastian seems to have taken on a parental role to Jim. Maintains an unhealthily close relationship with him. Needs better discipline. To be reviewed.’


	24. Goodbye Mrs Moriarty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's mother comes to dinner in a final attempt to reach out to her son.

Dawn cooked a roast dinner on Sunday, and Jim and Sebastian, instead of eating in the dining room with everyone else at lunch, had their food an hour later, so they could have time alone with Jim’s mother. 

Jane Moriarty turned up looking hopeful and weary. Sebastian was surprised by how small she looked. Had she seemed that small yesterday? She must have done, he told himself, because the weight of unhappiness couldn’t make you shrink for real. That was only something that happened in books, or in people’s minds. If Sebastian was to liken her to an animal, today it would be a mouse. The optimism from yesterday had disappeared. She appeared desperate, afraid. Like a ghost. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian looked after Jim as best he could all day. He listened to him rambling about his work at school, about codes that Sebastian couldn’t understand even if he tried, about percentages and profit margins and new ideas he’d had that he was keeping to himself for later. 

A lot of Jim’s words were nonsensical, and Sebastian felt his heart drop with fear. While Jim spoke of symbols and new patterns and digits, Sebastian stroked his hair and tried not to frown. Jim’s tiny hands stretched up to stroke Seb’s chin as he spoke, unbeknownst to Sebastian feeling for stubble. Jim was waiting for Sebastian’s facial hair eagerly. He had done his research and it should happen one day soon. Sebastian was growing fast, after all, faster than most people his age. Jim tried to imagine Sebastian with a beard. He didn’t like the idea of that. He would make Sebastian shave as soon as the hair appeared. Or maybe he would get to shave Sebastian himself? That thought was magical, being the one with the blade, Sebastian entirely at his mercy. One wrong move and Jim could cut open an artery, send crimson spurts out of Sebastian’s neck, leave him spluttering for breath, fading fast, blue eyes tired. They wouldn’t be fearful, Jim decided, or even betrayed. Just steady as always. Adoring….

But he wouldn’t make a wrong move. He would be very careful. He would trace the stubble with his fingertip first before he got rid of it, and he would make sure Sebastian watched him as he worked. Just so he knew that Jim was choosing, deliberately, to be merciful, to be kind. 

From his position draped across Sebastian’s lap, Jim watched Sebastian’s jawline and his bobbing Adam’s apple. Seb would be thirteen soon and that would make him a real teenager. Jim would have given anything to wish away the two years between them, so he wasn’t always running to catch up. He often cursed his tiny body and childish appearance. The fear that Sebastian would leave him always lingered in the back of his mind. Even though Sebastian showed no signs of wanting to yet. The day would come when Sebastian, full of hormones, would attempt to stray from him. Jim would have to be clever when that day came. Nobody else was having Sebastian. That was for certain. 

“One day I’ll teach you how to read the numbers,” Jim told Sebastian quietly. He could tell that his best friend didn’t understand what he meant when he spoke of codes and theorems. But he would soon. Jim would show him how everything worked, and once Sebastian looked around and saw numbers everywhere the same as he did, Jim wouldn’t be so alone. 

Seb just sort of nodded his head, not comprehending the meaning of Jim’s words. He peered down at Jim with barely disguised worry in his blue eyes. 

“Yeah?” 

Jim nodded his head. “Yes, ‘Bastian. I’ll show you what it’s like inside my brain. Then you’ll understand. You will, won’t you?” 

Sebastian didn’t know if he ever could understand Jim’s mind, which was so adult and so childish at once, so shockingly changeable, able to skip steps and leap to conclusions in seconds. But it was important to Jim and so he would try. 

“I’ll do my best,” he mumbled. Jim gave a sad little sigh. 

“I’m sorry about your mum coming over,” Sebastian said, misinterpreting Jim’s unhappiness. 

Jim shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s all Verity. And she’ll pay, ‘Bastian. Don’t you fret.” 

Sebastian furrowed his brow but didn’t press Jim for answers. If Jim had plans he would tell him when the time was right. For now all he could do was keep Jim calm and watch over him. As long as Jim was lying across his lap looking sleepy, he wasn’t trying to hurt himself. Sebastian would stay like this all day if he had to.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM 

“This is nice,” Jim’s mother said as she sat down at the dining table, peering at her plate of food. Dawn had made roast chicken with all the trimmings. She’d even cooked little sausages and made stuffing. 

Predictably, Jim didn’t immediately respond. He glanced at his own plate with distaste. Food turned his stomach recently, even chocolate. The only reason he had eaten anything was because Sebastian was frightened he would make himself ill. 

“Well, shall we say grace?” Jim’s mother suggested. Jim rolled his eyes. Sebastian watched her intently, wondering what she meant. 

Jim patted Sebastian on the arm and then tutted. “Saying grace means giving thanks to God before we eat our food. As if he cooked it for us instead of Dawn.”

Sebastian nodded his head. He thought he could remember seeing that in some American film. A large family sat around a table while the father, wearing a suit and tie, went on about how privileged they were. At the time Sebastian had scowled, jealousy bubbling in his stomach. This was the time before Jim, when Sebastian would have killed for siblings and a proper family, a father with a suit and tie and a mother with pink cheeks and a kind smile. 

“Now, Jimmy,” his mother reprimanded him. “It’s to give thanks to the Lord for providing us with our meal. For making us lucky-“ 

That was the wrong way to talk to Jim. Sebastian winced. He thought it was incredibly insensitive to tell a person like Jim, who seemed suicidal at times, that he was lucky. It was a nerve, Seb reckoned, coming from the woman who left Jim crying at home with no food and no warmth. Thinking of Jim, even littler than when he’d first arrived, huddled up in a blanket on the floor, made Sebastian so angry he wanted to smash things up. In that moment he hated Jane Moriarty. He wanted her to suffer. He wanted to make her cry the way Jim had cried… 

Seb shook away the feeling, stunned by the force of his own emotions. Shaken, he took a swig of his orange juice. For one moment he had seen red, but in a different way to when he fought people. In a new way. Something far more sinister than a fair fight. Something that lurked under his skin, something with the capacity to wait, to hold back an impulse. 

“No, I don’t need to thank him for anything. He isn’t real,” Jim declared argumentatively. “But by all means pray to someone who gave Da The Depression and made you a rubbish mum with no money.” 

Jim’s mother looked deeply unhappy and then mumbled something over her own plate. Sebastian couldn’t make out her words because of her accent. Her fingers were clasped tightly together. Sebastian noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. That was unusual, wasn’t it? To be married and not wear a ring. Had she sold it because she had no money?

“Eat, Sebby,” Jim commanded gently, noticing Sebastian’s eyes straying to his mother’s fingers with a knowing smirk. 

Sebastian obediently tucked in. He loved roast chicken and he wasn’t going to waste it. To try and distract himself from the awkward situation, he began to shovel peas into his mouth, not looking up. Losing himself in the rhythm of shoving food into his mouth and chewing. 

Jim continued to watch his mother, eyes scanning her face intently. He smiled to himself again, a tiny one. If Sebastian had seen it he would have known it meant trouble. 

“Sebastian eats like a caveman, don’t you, ‘Bastian?” Jim commented eventually. 

Seb didn’t think so. He always put his knife and fork together when he was finished eating, and he tried not to talk with his mouth full. True, he didn’t always chew his food properly, but that was only because he wanted to get his first helping down quickly so he could have seconds. Living in care had taught him to fight for what he wanted. He hadn’t always been one of the strongest and the older kids used to steal food straight from your plate if you were too slow.

Jim looked fond, though, so Sebastian didn’t argue. He felt strange, like he was being shown off. Like a dog at one of those shows with the owners that dressed the animals up like humans and led them around a tiny enclosure.

There was another long moment of silence. Sebastian continued to eat. Neither Jane or Jim touched their food. 

“Are you not going to eat, Jimmy?” his mother asked, looking concerned. It was funny, Seb thought, that she had such flashes of being wonderful. Occasionally she said proper motherly things and looked soft and tender. But then she would suddenly snap back to being distant and stressed. Seb still didn’t know what to make of her. 

Jim shook his head. “I might when I’m hungry,” he said with a shrug. “Nice of you to take an interest though, Ma. You didn’t when you left me at home with Da and we had no food.” 

Sebastian swallowed a large potato with a gulp and glanced between the other two people at the table. 

“Your poor father was very ill, Jimmy,” his mother explained. “There was soup and I had to look after the baby. I didn’t know your father would become so very-

“Useless?” Jim asked, tilting his head to one side. 

Jane gave a pained smile and then turned her attention to Sebastian. 

“You look like a big strong boy,” she said appraisingly. Sebastian would have been proud if he didn’t feel so bad for Jim. His mother didn’t even bother to disguise her wistfulness. She clearly wanted a ‘big strong boy’ as her son instead of Jim. 

Jim rolled his eyes and poked at a carrot on his plate with his fork. 

“What do you like to do, Sebastian?” 

Seb shrugged, looking at Jim for permission. Jim nodded his head almost imperceptibly. 

“Er, I swim,” Seb admitted gruffly. “And do athletics and stuff.” 

“Man of few words, eh?” 

“Not around people he likes,” Jim put in cruelly. “He talks to me all the time. You’re making him uncomfortable, Ma.” 

Jane Moriarty felt her heart sink whenever she heard Jimmy call her ‘Ma’. At home she had always been ‘mummy’. He had grown up quickly in the two years she had been absent from his life. 

“Sebastian, you have gravy on your chin,” Jim pointed out affectionately. Seb wiped his mouth with the back of his hand feeling self-conscious. Jim merely giggled. 

With a glance at his mother he picked up a sausage from his plate with his pale fingers. 

“I don’t want this,” he commented vaguely. “Open wide, Sebby.” 

Sebastian obediently did as he was told and Jim fed him the sausage with a gleeful expression. Seb yet again felt uncomfortably like a dog doing tricks. Still it was worth it because it made Jim smile. That was the important thing. 

Jim patted Sebastian on the head and then gave his mother a significant look. 

For some reason Sebastian felt his skin burning all over. He wanted to slump in his seat and sink beneath the table, out of sight. Jim’s mother’s eyes on him made him feel guilty. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong, but his stomach was twisting and he knew that something wasn’t right. Something inside his body was telling him there was a problem, although his brain couldn’t place it. 

“My Sebastian used to be terribly religious,” Jim pointed out. 

Jane Moriarty let the first part of that statement go for now. “Used to be?” his mother questioned, narrowing her eyes with slight fear.

“He realised, with my help, that God is either not there or not listening.” 

Jane looked sick to her stomach. So her boy was corrupting another poor soul? A poor innocent boy who would now go straight to Hell. 

“How old are you, Sebastian?” Jane asked carefully, neatly dabbing at her lips with a tissue. She looked incredibly nervous and Seb couldn’t understand why. If he hadn’t known better he’d have assumed she was being watched or followed.

“He’s almost thirteen,” Jim cut in again, pushing his plate away from him with disgust. 

Sebastian and Jane both eyed Jim’s plate and tiny frame. He’d had one bite of a potato and one piece of chicken. 

“Do you like him, Ma?” 

Jane balked at this question, not sure quite what to say. Her son had always asked questions that were far too blunt. Uncomfortable questions. Just to show it was he that was pulling all the strings. 

“You seem like a good boy, Sebastian,” she answered quietly. “And it’s good of you to spend time with Jimmy-“ 

Jim made a noise of outrage but Sebastian had beaten him to it. “He’s my best mate, he isn’t some charity case,” he said gruffly. “I think Jim’s brilliant.” 

Jim sighed like a cat that had been stroked. 

“Did you get my letters?” Jane asked, trying to change the subject, to take back some of the control from her son. “I sent you plenty. Pictures and the like.” 

“I threw them in the bin,” Jim admitted carelessly. “That’s where you belong.” 

Jane winced. There it was, that look he’d been capable of since he was a young child. Jane had tried her best to love her son, honestly she had. But there was something about him that unnerved her. Perhaps it was because he talked so early and cried so much. Or maybe it was his observant eyes, his gleeful laughter when someone got hurt. Then there was the time she had found the cat dead in the garden, Jimmy hovering innocently nearby.

“Why didn’t you scream out?” she had asked him, disturbed by the sight of next door’s pet bloody and stiff on the tiny amount of grass they owned.

“Too late for kitty,” was all Jim had said. His expression was hungry and satisfied at once. But his tiny hands were clean. 

“Poor neighbour kitty!” Jane had exclaimed, talking in baby speak as she often did to Jim, despite having the distinct feeling he realised he was being patronised. “Poor kitty.” 

Jim had nodded his head solemnly. “Bad kitty,” he muttered. “Not coming back never ever.” Then he toddled back indoors as though absolutely nothing had happened…

Jane blinked at her son now. Ten years old and still with that same expression. That glint in his eyes and the composure better befitting an adult. The slow blink that screamed ‘you can’t prove anything.’

Jim knew he was being observed. He smirked slightly and then sighed, making a show of pushing it away.

“Sebastian, will you please leave me and Ma to talk for a bit?” Jim said quietly. 

Sebastian swallowed nervously. He didn’t want to leave him alone with her. 

“You sure? I can stick around if you want-“ 

“Go, ‘Bastian,” Jim said softly. “This is private. We have things to discuss. I need to tell Ma something.” 

Jane looked petrified. Why did she? Sebastian couldn’t get his head around the fact that one moment she was belittling her son, the next she was treating him like a wild and clever animal. To Sebastian, she seemed just as ill as her son. Only less confident, far more fearful, without Jim’s determined ambition and grandiose. 

Obediently, Sebastian put his knife and fork together and got down from the table. He decided to wait outside the room, just in case Jim needed him. 

Jim and his mother sat in the room for a good ten minutes and Sebastian could hear nothing. He was sitting in the hallway, leaning against the wall, throwing a tiny rubber ball up and down and catching it every time. The other children were playing out in the garden, he could hear them laughing. Chloe was shouting at someone and a row suddenly broke out. Sebastian heard Frank venture into the fray, using his best friendly voice, trying to defuse the situation. If Sebastian hadn’t been on his guard, ready to leap up at Jim’s command, he would have listened closer to see exactly who it was that was fighting. 

The dining room door suddenly opened and Mrs Moriarty emerged. Her arms were shaking as though she was ill. Sebastian was about to direct her to the visitor’s toilet when she glanced at him, eyes large and searching. She was clearly on the verge of sobbing. 

“Sebastian,” she said, pronouncing his name in the same way Jim did when he was tired or upset. Seb responded to it immediately, scrambling to his feet. 

The woman took his hands and Seb dropped the ball, leaving it to roll off down the corridor. Her hands were cool but surprisingly strong for a lady that seemed so frail. 

“Thank you for looking after my Jimmy,” she said breathlessly, her accent thick as her voice broke. 

Sebastian couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her. Her eyes were identical to Jim’s, and Seb never failed to feel ill at the sight of Jim crying. It cut through him like a rusty knife. 

“Please look after him,” Jane whispered. 

Sebastian didn’t know what to say, so he kept his mouth shut, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

She squeezed his hands gently. Seb was numb, speechless. He wanted to tear his hands away from the woman that had hurt Jim so deeply, but he found he could not. This was important. His instincts told him to remain still. 

“Thank you,” the woman said, leaning down to kiss Sebastian on the forehead. Unlike Jim he did not squirm away. “Bless you.” 

Sebastian felt a powerful ache for his own mother. He wondered if she had ever kissed him like this, or if he had been too little, too disobedient. Perhaps he was not worthy of her love? Perhaps he had failed her in some way by letting his bones break, by not picking himself up and dusting himself off. Why hadn’t he just been brave? Why hadn’t he been stronger? Why was he so bad that his father had been forced to discipline him?

Sebastian could feel tears brimming in his blue eyes and so he clamped them shut with shame. He wasn’t allowed to cry. Crying made you weak. He was supposed to be strong… 

By the time he judged it safe to open his eyes again Jim’s mother was already retreating down the hall, heading for the door. Sebastian thought he heard a sob before the door slammed shut behind her. Disappearing from Jim’s life forever.


	25. Newspapers and Fairy Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twist of fate leaves Jim with a bit of cash and everything to play for.

“ ‘The body of a thirty one year old woman was found in the Thames near Tower Bridge at two pm on the seventeenth. The woman has been identified as Jane Moriarty, a thirty one year old from Dublin. She was reportedly wearing a grey sweater, black skirt and a distinctive gold cross around her neck. Police now want to know if anyone nearby saw her near the banks around the time of the incident. It is thought she jumped on the fifteenth, although the motive and timing of the event are still unclear.

The death is not being considered as suspicious.’” 

Jim nodded his head with a yawn. 

“Next one. Go.” 

Sebastian shuffled through the papers and found the next article. 

“ ’Jane Moriarty, mother of two, had been on a visit to see her son in London when tragedy struck. It is thought she may have slipped into the river and been swept away by the powerful current. 

City authorities and the tourist board wish to remind tourists to stay away from the river banks, lest a tragedy like this one happen again.’” 

“Next,” Jim commanded. 

“This one’s a tabloid,” Sebastian warned Jim as he selected the paper. 

“Yes, okay. Go on.” 

“ ‘Beautiful Jane Moriarty, young mother of two kids, was found dead on the seventeenth.’” 

Jim interrupted with a scoff. Sebastian glanced up from the newspaper. 

“Beautiful?” Jim said, face screwed up with distaste. “She was never beautiful. Was she, Seb?” 

The blond pondered the question for a moment, trying to think back to the short time he had spent in the woman’s company. He didn’t think she was particularly beautiful. 

“No,” he answered honestly. “But she had nice eyes.” 

“Nice eyes?” Jim repeated. To start with he looked appalled by this information, but then he smirked, lying back with a wave of his hand. “Continue.” 

“ ‘The Mail has discovered she lived an unhappy life in the poorer part of Dublin, caring for a mentally disturbed husband and young child. Sources (that do not wish to be named) even go so far as to say she sold herself to pay the rent. 

‘Odd family, them ones,’ our source told the Mail. ‘Not the usual type round here. Kept themselves to themselves, like. Thought they were a cut above, if you get what I’m saying. And there was plenty of rumours floating around about poor Jane, God rest her soul. Scarlet woman by night, some say. But I can’t tell you if that’s the way it was. ‘“ 

Sebastian stopped reading. 

“Carry on,” Jim demanded, sucking on his chocolatey fingers. Since his mother had been announced dead, he’d been given a lot of chocolate as a bribe to keep him from making a scene. 

“No,” Seb said. “It’s rubbish. They’re just stirring shit up. You don’t want to hear it.” 

Jim rolled onto his front and frowned at Sebastian. 

“Do you think I care what they say about her?” 

“I would if it was my mum,” Sebastian answered with a slight shrug. 

“You don’t even remember your mother,” Jim pointed out coldly. “Don’t be silly.” 

Sebastian puffed out his chest where loyalty was bubbling. 

“Doesn’t mean I’d let the papers write a load of rubbish about her.” 

“Sebastian,” Jim said wisely, putting on his best teaching face. Sebastian listened intently, recognising the tone. “Never trust anything you read in the newspapers. They are made for the gullible and the idiots. Less than a quarter of what you read in them is actually true. Most have some form of political agenda or simply want to sell. Don’t ever trust them. Especially not the tabloids. What you’re reading is a fairy tale, nothing more. It’s a story.” 

Sebastian sniffed and picked up the paper again, finding his place and continuing…

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim had cried in the meeting with Verity, of course. He had wept and wept, reaching out occasionally to sneak biscuits from the plate on the table and cram them into his mouth. He had also made Verity agree to his terms while under the guise of ‘grieving son’. 

Desperate to avoid Jim committing suicide in her care home, Verity had relented and allowed Jim to move back in with Sebastian for a couple of weeks. Just until the story in the papers died down and the funeral had happened. 

Jim wasn’t going to attend the funeral. Verity had offered him the chance to travel down to Dublin, but Jim was in no hurry to return to his grubby council estate or see his neighbours, who had never helped him when he was at home and his mother alive. He did not want to be reunited with his useless father and irritating little sister. In his mind he had already severed the cord years ago. Katie and his Da were ghosts of his past, and nothing more. Jim would not allow himself to be associated with such ordinary people.

He would have liked the opportunity to wear a smart suit with a tie and cufflinks, but he told himself he would do so another time. He had the money to buy a nice suit now, after all, what with the small amount of cash left to him by his mother. 

The money left to him had been quite disappointing really, but it was enough for Jim for now, and he was going to save it. He had just enough to rent somewhere when he left the home at eighteen, and by then he assumed he would have added enough cash to the amount to pay for the electricity, water and occasionally food. It had been uncovered when Jane died, that she had been secretly transferring money into an account at the bank, saving for when Jim was old enough to go to university. Jim was not grateful for this, merely angered that she hadn’t managed to make more. After all, he thought, if you were going to sell yourself you might as well do it for a high price. But his mother had never been intelligent or business minded, so like everything else, she had messed the plan up. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Does it still count as murder if you talk someone into it?” Jim asked on the evening he had been informed of his mother’s death. He and Sebastian were sitting curled up on his old bed, the top bunk. By feigning grief all over again Jim had been left in peace and privacy with his best friend. 

“Think it’s officially suicide,” Sebastian breathed out, his head spinning.

“But if you make them,” Jim pressed on. “If you make them so they can’t bear to live. If you give them the little push right inside their head, if you press the right buttons. If you force them to do it.” 

Sebastian felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Call it what you want,” he grunted, tone sharper than he’d intended. 

Jim stroked Sebastian’s back tenderly, feeling for where he knew the largest of his scars were. He felt Sebastian flinch at his touch. 

“You’re not pleased with me,” he commented. “Don’t be boring, ‘Bastian.” 

“I’m not boring,” Sebastian explained, his voice low. “I’m just… that’s your mum, Jim.” 

Jim shuffled right over so he was sitting on Sebastian’s lap. He reached behind him to grab for his arms so they could wrap around his waist like they had when he was younger. 

“Do you think I’m a monster, Sebby?” he asked. 

Seb shook his head. 

‘No, ‘course not. You’re just… it wasn’t your fault, Okay?” 

Jim chuckled quietly and rested his head back against Sebastian’s shoulder. 

“It was,” he informed Seb proudly. “I talked to her and then she killed herself. It was sooooooo simple. Because I’m that good, Sebby. I can get into people’s minds and convince them to do whatever I want.” 

Sebastian sniffed uncomfortably. 

“What did you say to her?” 

Jim turned around and bopped Sebastian on the end of his nose with a lazy smirk. 

“Shall we go to bed?”

Sebastian looked embarrassed and he half shook his head, half nodded. He began to disentangle himself from Jim and move towards the ladder. 

“Where are you going?” Jim demanded. “You’re sleeping up here. With me.” 

“I don’t like heights,” Sebastian mumbled, already on his way down the ladder. 

Jim looked furious, but then his expression softened. 

“But I might get sad,” he whispered. “I might get lonely and need you to protect me. Don’t leave me, ‘Bastian.” 

Sebastian frowned. He was used to this now, and the manipulations were having less and less of an impact on him as time went on. 

“If you need me, I’ll be in the bottom bunk,” he said with finality. “But I sleep alone, okay? I need space.” 

Jim pouted and threw himself down on his back. “You’re different,” he said sulkily, as he peeled off his socks and threw them off his bed and onto the bedroom floor. He heard Sebastian wearily going to pick them up. 

“Night, Jim,” Sebastian sighed back. 

Jim gave an irritated huff and didn’t respond.


	26. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is plagued by dangerous thoughts of a possible future.

Sebastian seemed to have taken to snoring over the past few months, although that didn’t irritate Jim as much as it would had it been anyone else, it soothed him. It was good to be reminded that he wasn’t alone in a room anymore. That Sebastian was so close that he could touch him with just a few steps down the ladder. 

Jim stared up at the ceiling and blinked slowly, watching the progress of a moth that had somehow got into the room. The moth kept on flying into the wall and getting confused, then returning to the light, making it dusty and sending flickering shadows across the room. 

The lights had to be left on now, because Jim was finding it increasingly difficult to sleep in the darkness. Night was when his mind was at its worst, full of monsters and voices, creeping icy fingers that liked to claw and scrabble at the insides of his head, trying to burst out. Without Sebastian, Jim had had nothing to ground him or bring him back, but now his best friend was snoring away in the bottom bunk, Jim was able to think more logically. It meant he wasn’t alone, that he was protected. The things that lurked in his head were frightening, but Sebastian wouldn’t let them consume him. Sebastian would fight them. Yes, Jim thought to himself, smirking a little, Sebastian would fight off anyone or anything that tried to hurt him. 

He rolled onto his side and faced the wall, curling up slightly as he distracted himself with other thoughts. The lady that he had to see for his mental health problems told him that he might never be able to break away from the intrusive thoughts but he could get a head start on them and keep them at bay if he tried hard enough. Distractions were important, she told him, because if Jim was focused on something with enough force, the feelings couldn’t overpower him. 

His thoughts led him to the money waiting for him in a bank account in Dublin. Not much considering how expensive nice flats in the city were. But enough to start with. Definitely enough to build on. More than what anyone else in the disgusting care home had to their name. 

Money was what made the difference between a nobody and a somebody. Money was just another form of power. And Jim craved power so much that it hurt him, his gut twisting and his chest aching. The only problem was that Sebastian didn’t seem interested in power in the slightest. When Jim brought up the subject, Sebastian would listen to him talk of money and clothes and holidays and apartments and private jets, but he never got that same spark in his eyes that Jim did. Sebastian wasn’t hungry for it the way he should be. The fool was quite content to train and train and then join the army, apparently happy to spend his days being shouted at and following orders, earning a tiny salary and being shot at in foreign countries. 

Jim shook his head with affectionate disapproval. Of course Sebastian wouldn’t ever get his wish. Jim wouldn’t allow him to join the army. Aside from the fact it was a stupid, pointless occupation, Jim wasn’t going to allow Sebastian to leave him for such long periods of time or risk getting killed in some far off land, dusty and dirty and vulnerable. Because as brave as Sebastian was, and as strong as he was getting, Jim knew that courage and confidence couldn’t impede the flight of a bullet. Nor could the fact that he was completely and utterly adored. 

He swallowed, no longer comfortable with his train of thought. No matter what he tried to move on to, he couldn’t shake away the sight of Sebastian, dead in the dust, bleeding crimson through his army uniform. 

“’Bastian?” Jim called out weakly, feeling his skin prickle with unease. The snoring continued. Sebastian was apparently deep in dreams. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Jim told himself lowly, hitting himself on the forehead and trying to get rid of the image that seemed suddenly to be burned onto the inside of his eyelids. A crumpled and beautiful soldier, alone in the dirt, sweaty and useless, one blue eye still open, shocked and unmoving. “Not real, not real, not real,” he hissed, pinching at his inner arms. “Not real… not real… Seb wouldn’t die, he wouldn’t die, he wouldn’t…” 

In the bottom bunk, Sebastian suddenly grunted, the snoring coming to an abrupt stop. Jim held his breath. 

“Did you call me?” came a tired voice, lower and rougher than Jim remembered Sebastian’s sleeping voice to be. 

“Nightmare,” Jim whispered back, not wanting to admit that he had been this overcome with thoughts while fully conscious. That was losing control, and Jim could never tell anyone about that. People already knew he was disturbed, but he didn’t want Sebastian to discover he was going mad. 

“Need me to come up there?” 

Jim swallowed and wiped his covers over his face, which he only now realised was sweaty. He grimaced, feeling disgusting. 

“Please,” Jim called back down, his voice quiet.

There was the sound of the bottom bunk creaking and then Sebastian was on his way up the ladder, appearing in Jim’s line of vision in a few seconds, messy blond hair first, followed by tired, heavily lidded blue eyes. 

“Budge over then,” Sebastian said, barely suppressing a yawn. 

“I thought you needed your space?” Jim pointed out, a tiny bit bitterly. But Seb was too tired to notice the tone. 

“I’m not staying. I’ll just lie down until you get back to sleep,” he said, in his gently commanding voice. It was the grown up one he had taken to using when Jim was about to hurt himself or seemed to be on the verge of tears. Jim shifted over in his bed so his shoulder was touching the bedroom wall. 

Sebastian slumped down unceremoniously next to him. Jim was aware of how much he had grown, how far away Sebastian’s feet were, how long his limbs seemed. The blond crossed his arms over his chest so there was more room and then closed his eyes. 

“There’s a moth,” Jim commented quietly, brown eyes once again following the progress of the insect. 

“Want me to kill it?” 

“No, it’s okay.” 

Sebastian grunted and then yawned again. 

“You’re not going to die, are you?” Jim asked after a long moment of silence. His voice was tiny, tentative. 

“Not planning on it for a while yet,” Sebastian answered, with his new brand of affectionate sarcasm. Jim had noticed his sense of humour developing recently, along with how moody he was, he had discovered a dry sort of wit. Jim quite liked it. 

Jim gave Sebastian a shove with his pointy elbow. 

“You can only die with my permission,” Jim informed him. “Understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian agreed with a tired grin, eyes still closed. 

“I mean it, Sebby. Don’t laugh.” 

Sebastian immediately got rid of his smile. 

“I’m not going to die, okay? I’m only twelve.” 

“Thirteen in two months,” Jim pointed out. “And you seem older than that. You’re certainly big enough to be at least fourteen.” 

“Jim, relax,” Sebastian said soothingly, reaching out an arm and snaking it around Jim. “We’re both safe, alright? Go to sleep.” 

“I don’t have to follow your orders.” 

“It isn’t an order,” Sebastian sighed. “It’s a request. We’ve got school tomorrow. We’ll be up in a few hours.” 

Jim huffed, pretending to be irritated. In reality he was relieved to have Sebastian’s calming influence beside him. After all, how could he focus on grown up soldier Sebastian dead in the dirt when the real live clean and nice smelling Sebastian had his arm wrapped protectively around him? 

“You should really get your snoring seen to,” Jim commented as he closed his eyes, head leaning against the warmth of Sebastian’s shoulder. 

“Will do,” Sebastian agreed, just for the sake of avoiding another discussion. “Night, Jim.” 

“It’s morning.” 

“Night,” Sebastian repeated firmly. 

With a tiny smirk Jim allowed himself drift into dreamless sleep.


	27. Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian goes to Sophie's house for the first time and meets her big brother.

Sebastian had been invited to Sophie’s house for the first time. Newt was away on an expensive holiday with his family, which meant when the class were given projects to work on in pairs for science during the summer holidays, Sophie and Seb had naturally decided to work together. The care home wasn’t a good environment for working in because it was so noisy and packed full of people, so Sophie volunteered her house for the job. 

Seb had never been invited to someone’s home before and he was slightly apprehensive about it. He was nervous about meeting Sophie’s dad, even though he seemed like a nice man when Sophie talked about him. In Sebastian’s mind, fathers were stern and to be respected, and he’d never quite forgotten what a failure he had been to his own father. Luckily for Seb, when he had walked to Sophie’s place, her dad wasn’t in after all. 

The freedom of walking was something Sebastian treasured. He was at last considered old enough to make the twenty minute trek to Sophie’s more expensive area, and he stalked along the streets with a slight grin on his face, sniffing in the polluted London air, hoodie on even in the heat, because it made him feel tough 

When Sebastian arrived, Sophie explained that her father was doing his course, although she didn’t tell Seb exactly what sort of a course it was. He had, however, made them some snacks for when Seb arrived, along with some lemonade. Seb thought this was brilliant, but Sophie was apparently used to this because she barely batted an eyelid at it. 

Her home was enviously large and in a nice street. Sebastian didn’t know if this was the size of most houses or not. Newt and Sophie both had quite a lot of money, so he supposed it wasn’t usual to have three floors and a perfectly painted black door with white walls. The care home had graffiti on the gate and the door kept peeling and needing to be repaired. Sometimes the other kids deliberately wrecked things, and Sebastian had even contributed to that without meaning to. When he saw red sometimes he just had to vent his anger, and that meant kicking and punching things. 

Sophie showed him to the living room with a lazy gesture of her hand. Sebastian’s attention was drawn to the trophies on the shelves in the corner and also the photographs everywhere. He couldn’t see the people in them properly, but they were all tanned and healthy looking. The only photo Seb could make out from the sofa, was one of a very pretty woman with large green eyes and a massive smile. The sunlight was lighting up her skin as she laughed. Sebastian supposed that must be Sophie’s late mother, because they shared a lot of facial features. 

Seb was just setting his school bag down in the living room when someone cleared their throat from the doorway. He looked up, and Sophie gave a long sigh, although it was obviously put on. 

It was one of Sophie’s brothers. Sebastian suspected he was Ben, because Paul was older and according to Sophie, had a ponytail that she wanted to snip off. Ben had very short dark hair that would probably have been wavy had it been allowed to grow. His nose was not straight like Sophie’s, it had a slight bump to it, which suggested it had been broken. The boy’s body language was relaxed, and although he wasn’t tall, he seemed large because of his stance and his muscular frame. 

The siblings fired playful insults at each other in Greek, none of which Sebastian understood, and then Sophie grinned, passing Ben and giving him a hard shove. Seb watched them both curiously, having never witnessed proper brothers and sisters before. 

“I’m going to find some paper and pens,” Sophie informed Sebastian as she jogged up the stairs and out of sight. “The wally is Benjamin. Ignore him if you like, Seb.”

Benjamin gave Sebastian a half smile and plonked himself down in the armchair across from him looking relaxed and amused. 

“So, you and Soph…” he said, in a low and deeply accented voice, gesticulating with his large hands. He raised his thick eyebrows to complete the effect. 

Sebastian swallowed, not understanding his question initially. He scratched his head, shifting a bit uncomfortably. 

“She’s my mate,” he mumbled, blue eyes fixing on Ben. Sebastian was drawn to his shoulders, which were large and tanned, practically bulging with muscles. Sebastian thought of his own arms and felt embarrassed. He was strong, yes, but Ben was built like a tank. He’d probably be able to get into the army easily if he wanted to. 

“Ah, I see,” Ben responded, nodding his head a bit. “Just a warning, if you upset my little sis, I’ll be forced to show you some moves.” 

Sebastian blinked, taking a moment too long to respond. “You a boxer?” he asked, his voice sounding stupid in his own ears. He knew that Paul did boxing, so it made sense that his brother might too. 

Ben nodded and leaned back in his chair. He inclined his head towards the trophies on a shelf. “Some of them are mine,” he revealed. “They aren’t all for Paul.” 

Sebastian glanced at the trophies for a while, saying nothing. He knew he must look horribly shy but he didn’t know what to say. 

“You can have a look if you want,” Ben said with a shrug of his shoulders. “You’re almost as bad as Newt.” 

Sebastian got to his feet instantly. He didn’t want Ben to think he was timid the way Newt was. He swung his arms a bit as he crossed the room to the trophies. For some reason his legs felt too long, something he’d never experienced in his life before. He was very aware of what he must look like, gangly and silent, like an idiot. 

There was a photo on the second shelf down, of Ben in a pair of shorts wearing red boxing gloves and a guard over his teeth. He was covered in sweat and another man was holding his right arm in the air, in apparent victory. 

“You like boxing?” Ben asked when Sebastian didn’t just have a polite glance and sit back down again. 

Seb shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never done it. I fight a lot, at school, but I don’t know the rules of boxing.” 

“It’s a noble sport, don’t misunderstand it,” Ben said, getting up from the armchair. It squeaked as it was freed of his weight. “You’ve got to be disciplined,” he explained, moving behind Sebastian and looking at his own set of trophies. 

Seb swallowed and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

“Soph comes to see me and Paul fight all the time,” Ben said, picking up a trophy and handing it to Seb. “Feel this one. It’s got proper weight to it. Best I’ve won.” 

Sebastian took it eagerly. It didn’t feel particularly heavy to him, but he gave a sort of grin of agreement. 

“Come along next time,” Ben suggested generously. “Soph’ll show you the ropes. You might enjoy it.” 

Sebastian was thinking swiftly of an appropriate response to that when Sophie reappeared in the room clutching a pad of paper and a pencil case. 

“Is he boring you with his babies?” Sophie asked, rolling her eyes. 

Ben huffed and took the trophy out of Sebastian’s hands, putting it back on the shelf. Sebastian shook his head. “No, it’s pretty cool,” he said quickly. “I’ve never seen boxing properly.” 

“I said he could come next time I have a match,” Ben told Sophie flicking her on the arm as she passed him. She gave him a playful punch in return that didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. 

“Good,” Sophie responded lightly, placing the paper and pens down on the coffee table. “He can see how rubbish you are compared to me.” 

Ben laughed, throwing his head back good-naturedly. “You don’t box, Soph.” 

“I would if this family wasn’t full of such vile misogynists,” Sophie said, pulling a cushion off the sofa so she could sit at the coffee table. “I’d beat you any day.” 

“I’m not having a little sister of mine getting beaten half to death in the ring,” Ben said firmly. “Even if she’d wipe the floor with most of the competition.” 

“All of the competition,” Sophie corrected him, pulling the lid off the black felt tip and scribbling on the paper to see if it worked. “Seb, you’ve seen me fight, tell him.” 

Sebastian didn’t speak. He was finding it harder than usual to think of words. 

“Not you as well,” Sophie complained mildly. “He won’t fight me properly because I’m a girl,” she told Ben. 

Ben gave Sebastian a broad grin and then slapped him on the shoulder in a friendly way. “Good man,” he said. “Right, I’m off out. Don’t mess up the place, Soph.” 

Sebastian watched Ben cross the room, gaze fixed on the way the muscles of his back moved. 

“See you at the next match then,” he said, pointing at Seb before he left. “Soph, don’t touch my pizza.” 

With that, he was gone, front door slamming behind him. 

“He’s an idiot,” Sophie said harshly, although she clearly didn’t mean it. “Here, you want a blue or a red?” she asked, holding up two thick felt tips. 

“Blue,” Seb said, taking one from her and sitting opposite Sophie at the table. She had already written the title of their poster in block capitals. Seb picked up the text book and started to flick through it, hunting for facts on the solar system. Jim would have been helpful with this project, but he refused to aid Sebastian in any pursuit that involved Sophie. 

“You don’t have to come to the boxing if you don’t want,” Sophie added as she began drawing a border around the page. “It can get pretty rowdy sometimes.” 

Sebastian tried not to sound too enthusiastic. “I wouldn’t mind coming along, just to see what it’s like,” he mumbled. Sophie glanced up at him, noticing his odd tone of voice. 

“What’s the problem?” she demanded, tapping the end of her felt tip on the table. 

Seb shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno,” he said lowly. 

“If you’re feeling sick then the bathroom’s upstairs and next to my room,” she told him. 

“Nah, I’m fine,” Sebastian reassured her. “Think I’m just tired.” 

Sophie nodded her head and they worked hard for the next twenty or so minutes. Sebastian hunted for facts and Sophie transcribed them neatly, illustrating sometimes, occasionally grumbling under her breath about their workload. 

“You know your brother?” Seb said carefully, as Sophie was admiring the finished piece and blowing on a bit of colouring to dry it. 

“Paul or Ben?” she asked. 

“Ben. How old is he?” 

“Fourteen,” Sophie informed him, raiding her schoolbag for a rubber to get rid of the messy pencil lines on their creation. “Although he likes to think he’s as old as Paul.” 

Sebastian nodded his head. “Right.” 

“Would you say this is done?” Sophie asked, showing Sebastian her handiwork. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Sebastian agreed, although Sophie thought he still looked a bit spooked. 

“If you say so,” she said, getting to her feet and heading for the kitchen. “What we need is ice cream. After all that hard work.” 

Seb forced a grin and nodded. He packed their books away, tidying up so Sophie wouldn’t have to. Although he wasn’t ill his stomach did feel a bit odd, a bit different. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and glanced around the large front room. His eyes fixed on the trophies once again, and the photo in the middle of the second shelf down. 

“Vanilla or chocolate?” Sophie demanded, sticking her head into the room, shocking Seb out of his trance. 

“Vanilla,” he said quickly as she disappeared once again. He swallowed hard and wondered why his shoulders felt so heavy, why his gut was twisting mildly with something that felt like guilt.


	28. Equations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim attempts to teach Sebastian advanced maths without much success.

“Now, you substitute the ‘x’ and there we have it,” Jim explained, lightly scratching the end of his pencil around the complex equation. “It’s really very simple. Do you understand it now?” 

This was the third time Jim had gone over this one particular sum. Sebastian couldn’t wrap his head around it, no matter how desperately he wanted to impress Jim. He frowned at the page and tried to think logically, following the steps one by one. 

“Come on,” Jim said, a little more frustrated now. “It really isn’t difficult. I’ve already told you three times. Why are you so stupid? Hm?” 

Sebastian shrugged and still kept his eyes on the page, eager to figure this one out for Jim, just to prove himself. 

“You can’t do it,” Jim finally said. He sounded empty, disappointed. 

“Maybe if we come back to it tomorrow?” Seb suggested hopefully. 

“No. No, you’re not clever enough. It’s only me. Only me and yet the adults won’t listen. Why won’t they listen?” 

Sebastian placed a sympathetic hand on Jim’s shoulder. 

“What if I’m too clever? The cleverest person in the world,” Jim muttered, dark eyes darting beadily around the room. 

“There’s got to be other people,” Sebastian reasoned logically. “Other schools for geniuses. Other countries. Other ages.” 

“No!” Jim snapped, tearing away from Sebastian and heading for his sock drawer where he now kept his earnings and his pages and pages of equations. They were so precious to him that he screamed once when he saw Frank picking one up from the floor, where it had slipped out by accident. Jim opened the drawer and grabbed a handful of his papers, throwing them up in the air. They fluttered towards the ground, slicing through the air from side to side slowly before landing in a heap. Sebastian watched calmly. 

“And then there’s space,” Jim continued, as though nothing had happened. “Asteroids. Meteors. Black holes. Time travel. Why does nobody care? Why not? Tell me why!” 

“Jim, there’s loads of scientists, like NASA.” 

Jim gave a howl of frustration and threw himself on the ground. It no longer seemed cute as it had in the past. It now made him look unbalanced as he writhed about on the bedroom carpet. 

Sebastian swallowed, watching carefully to see if he needed to intervene.  


“What about the people at your school? They’re smart, right? The smartest in London. Supposed to be the smartest in Britain. “

“Idiots,” Jim declared from his position on the floor. “I’m ten times better than any of them, and I don’t even have to try. It’s so boring, Sebby. I’m so bored. So bored…” 

Sebastian sniffed helplessly. If he could have one wish right now it would be to make himself a genius, just so that Jim wouldn’t have to feel so alone. As it was, Seb was excelling at school, one of the brightest by far, but he wasn’t a genius, just very intelligent.

“Six weeks and nothing to do with my brain,” Jim murmured. “Six weeks of holidays and nothing to do. Nothing.” 

“I was thinking we could go to a museum or something?” Seb suggested. “Maybe the Science Museum? I mean, it’s free, so we’d just have to get someone to take us. Dawn might do it.” 

Jim raised his head ever so slightly, hopeful now. “How do you know it’s free?” 

“Did some research,” Seb admitted. “I was gonna try and get you there myself, but I’m not allowed and we’d get caught.” 

That perked Jim up. He rolled onto his side and then sat up, legs crossed, leaning back against the chest of drawers. 

“You’ll find it boring.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Sebastian shrugged. “Anyway, I might not. Could help me understand stuff, right? And I’m top of my class for science.” 

“Yes, we could spin it as an educational trip,” Jim mused thoughtfully. “Say that it’s to do with that project you’re doing with the Greek girl.” 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Her name’s Sophie. You can’t call her ‘the Greek girl.’” 

“Well she is Greek, and she is a girl,” Jim pointed out stubbornly. “You didn’t like me calling her ‘idiot Sophie’ or ‘horrible Sophie’ or ‘ugly Sophie’…” 

“She isn’t ugly, and fucking hell, Jim, she’s my mate,” Sebastian said, although he wasn’t really cross. He knew Jim was just jealous of the time Sebastian spent with her, the fact that he had friends at school while Jim was alone or with that weird gang he’d joined. 

Jim had noticed Sebastian acting a little strangely after his trip to Sophie’s house, and he had immediately put it down to Sophie using her feminine wiles to ensnare Sebastian. His hatred of her was growing by the day, yet irritatingly, there was nothing he could do about it. 

“Did you kiss?” Jim asked, his tone light as though he couldn’t care less, although inside he was burning with nerves and rage. 

Sebastian let out a snort. “Yeah, and we’re happily married and expecting our third child next week,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Jim’s expression stopped him in his tracks. 

“Fucking hell, no,” he said forcefully. “Sophie’s my mate. I don’t fancy her.” 

“Keep it that way,” Jim hissed, his eyes narrowed with the threat as he began to scoop his beloved papers back into his arms and pile them up in order. 

Sebastian scratched his head and watched Jim. 

“But I have got boxing with her and her family next week,” he revealed, knowing it was best to tell Jim now. Otherwise he would get more suspicious and volatile. 

Jim finished putting his papers away and then stared at Sebastian. 

“Boxing?” Jim asked, narrowing his eyes at Sebastian once again, trying to read him. Sebastian stood firm, face as impassive as he could make it. “Why? How come?” 

“Sophie’s brothers box,” he revealed carefully. “Said I could come along. One of them’s gonna teach me. At least he told Sophie he would.” 

“For free?” Jim enquired. 

“Yeah. Sophie says I’m a family friend. They’re really nice, Jim. Just accept you. They didn’t even care about me living here.” 

Jim scoffed cruelly. “You don’t even know their family. You’re not a family friend.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m getting to know them,” Seb said defensively. “No harm in that, is there?” 

For a moment, Jim looked like he was going to announce there was plenty of harm in it and that Seb would have to decline the offer. Sebastian could feel his heart beating loudly in his chest. But then Jim nodded, looking conspiratorial. 

“That could be useful,” he declared. “What about your swimming? I assume you’re keeping that up.” 

“Yeah, I need to keep fit for the army.” 

“Swimming and boxing,” Jim mused, nodding his head again. “And athletics. Quite a good combination. Useful.” 

“Yeah, means I’ll have an upper hand on the other blokes who want to enlist,” Sebastian said, thinking Jim was agreeing with him and swelling with pride. “The assault course’ll be a piece of cake.” 

“The army?” Jim commented, coming out of his dark trance. “Don’t count your chickens just yet, my dear.” 

Sebastian frowned. “Why the fuck did you just call me your dear?” 

“A bit of sophistication can’t hurt anyone,” Jim said wisely, twisting his wrist in the air. 

“Sounds fucking poncy if you ask me,” Sebastian mumbled. 

“Well nobody asked you!” Jim hissed, suddenly fuming. “You’re too stupid to understand anything, so I wouldn’t ask your advice, would I?” 

Jim got up from the floor and grabbed one of Sebastian’s army men from the shelf, throwing it at him. His aim was off, though, and it hit the window. That only further enraged Jim. He grabbed a handful of army men and threw them at Sebastian, who didn’t even shield his face. He just stared at Jim, completely undaunted as his collection rained down on the carpet. 

“What are you trying to do? Can’t do much damage with them,” he pointed out, raising an eyebrow in the infuriating way only a teenager could. It made Jim wild with fury. With a shriek he launched himself at Sebastian, backing him into the desk and slapping at his face. 

Sebastian easily grabbed Jim’s wrists and held them still, just staring at the younger boy with mingled concern and frustration. 

“Don’t fucking hit me,” he said. Jim tried to wriggle himself free and so Sebastian tightened his hold on Jim’s hands. 

“I’ll hit you if I want!” he hissed. 

“I haven’t even done anything!” Sebastian exclaimed, shaking his head. “You’re the one that just chucked my belongings across the room.” 

Jim’s eyes blazed, sunken and cruel, but then they suddenly became wide and watery, his body falling limp against Sebastian. 

The storm was over for now. Sebastian was used to these moods and he was now an expert at handling them. He let go of Jim’s wrists carefully and wrapped his arms around his friend, kissing the top of his head. 

“I’m not crazy,” Jim murmured against Sebastian’s chest. His voice was quiet and childish. “I’m not, ‘Bastian. Just clever. Really clever.” 

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Sebastian soothed him. “I reckon you’re brilliant. I’ll ask Dawn about the Science Museum, yeah? And if she says no then I’ll find a way to get you there. I’ll smuggle you out.” 

Jim laughed a bit at that. “Smuggle me out?” 

Sebastian gave Jim’s head one last kiss and then drew back, nodding. 

“Yeah, it’ll be like a mission, won’t it?” 

“You don’t live in a novel, Sebastian,” Jim reprimanded him lightly. “You’re not a spy.” 

“Where do you think novels come from? From real life, that’s where,” Sebastian responded with a slight smile.

“And who’s the hero of this particular novel, hm?” 

“You’re the protagonist,” Sebastian explained. “I’m the sidekick.” 

Jim threw back his head and laughed, all traces of tears gone. 

“This is your novel and you made yourself the sidekick?” he declared fondly. “That’s odd, Seb. You should be the hero of your own story” 

“Nah. I’m fine with lurking in the background. You’re the clever one, right? You’re the brains and I’m the brawn. That’s how the double acts go. You get it in tons of books.” 

Jim sighed affectionately and patted Sebastian on the chest. “We’re a double act?” 

“’Course we are. The world’s our story.” 

Jim’s mind latched onto that idea immediately, and a large grin grew on his face, eyes bright with malicious joy. “A fairy tale?” he demanded. 

Sebastian nodded. “If you want. I guess so. Although I was thinking more about adventure books-” 

“I do want,” Jim interrupted, moving away from Sebastian and twirling on the spot. “And I’m looking forward to seeing the Science Museum, so you’d better not let me down, okay?” 

“I won’t let you down,” Sebastian promised. 

“Swear on your life.” 

“I swear on my life.” 

“Cross your heart and hope to die.” 

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Sebastian repeated obediently. 

“Jim Moriarty is the best,” Jim said, waiting to see if Sebastian would repeat him again. 

“Jim Moriarty is the best, and will be going to the Science Museum with me as soon as I can swing it.” 

“Good boy,” Jim praised, beckoning Sebastian towards the door with his hand. “Garden, now. I need to sit on you so I don’t get bugs all over me.”


	29. The Science Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn takes Sebastian and Jim to the Science Museum.

London was buzzing on the rainy Tuesday morning Dawn took Jim and Sebastian to the Science Museum. Verity had at first been reluctant to allow the trip, but Dawn managed to bargain with her. The conditions being that Jim was not to have one of his turns for a whole week, and Sebastian was not to swear in the home. Both things still happened, of course, but in private. Jim could no sooner prevent his turns than stop breathing, but when he felt himself getting dark he fetched Sebastian and they barricaded themselves in the bedroom where Jim could cry and rage until he was too exhausted to continue, and slumped boneless onto Sebastian, or the bed. Mostly, when he felt bad, he lay with his head in Sebastian’s lap and allowed the older boy to stroke his hair. Sebastian had a gentle clumsiness to his movements, and Jim appreciated the care he could feel with each touch. Usually, when he was feeling awful, Jim spoke in a mixture of complete nonsense and mathematical language, but that didn’t matter. Sebastian listened, always, and he still remained. Even when he had the opportunity to do better things like play football or go and see Sophie.

Sebastian had new tactics in place for looking after Jim. He’d researched Jim’s mental illnesses and disorders in the library at school during his lunch break before term ended, just so he could discover the best ways to help him. Mostly, now he asked Jim to tell him about space and numbers and physics, and his plans for the future. The plans for the future were important, because Jim had suicidal tendencies at times, and Seb knew it was important to keep him hopeful about the years to come. Jim never could resist the chance to show off how clever he was and teach Sebastian, and even when he was sulking, or attempting to give Sebastian the silent treatment, he could always be coaxed into talking eventually. But only by Sebastian. He wouldn’t share his knowledge with anyone else. Jim thought other people were unworthy of the unique wisdom he had to impart. 

It still seemed odd to Sebastian, to hear the intensely intellectual ramblings of an adult coming from the mouth of a child, a little boy who was the size of an eight year old and still needed to be cuddled to soothe him when he was scared. Seb doubted he would ever stop being surprised and confused by Jim, and he knew with certainty that he would forever be a couple of steps behind him, but that was okay. He would keep on making himself better until he was good enough, no matter what it took. 

Seb had found not swearing extremely tricky. The curse words had slipped into his way of talking somehow, and were now impossible to eradicate. Jim offered to give him a little kiss on the cheek for each swear word he didn’t say, as an incentive to be good and not spoil their chances of going to the Science Museum, but Seb had just grinned a bit awkwardly, thinking it was a joke. Unbeknownst to Sebastian, Jim had been deadly serious. 

He slipped up once or twice, but Verity did accept he was trying, and as Monday approached, the day before the trip, she decreed that both Jim and Sebastian had earned their treat. 

Neither boy knew that Dawn had offered to do overtime in order to make up for her absence, and had also spent three meetings with Verity trying to convince her it was a good idea. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The luxury of traveling by taxi was not lost on Jim, who was used to the minibus and preened in the backseat, watching the grey London buildings whiz by, partially obscured by the rain pelting the windows. He liked watching the shops best, some bright and appealing, others elegant and sophisticated. There was one particular suit shop they passed, which caught his attention because of the pictures of male models in the windows. One of them looked a bit like grown up Seb, with his piercing blue eyes, his broad shoulders, thin waist and light stubble. Jim immediately imagined Sebastian wearing a posh grey suit like the man in the window, and decided one day he’d buy one for him, perfectly fitted and horrendously expensive. Sebastian would hate it, of course, but that didn’t matter. He’d look pleasing, and that was important. Sebastian, for now at least, lacked finesse and sophistication, but Jim was going to change that. 

When he turned to check on Seb, he found the blond’s eyes on him.

“What are you staring at?” Jim demanded suspiciously. 

Sebastian shrugged. “Just looking out the window,” he answered easily. “Think there was a sports shop back there.” 

Jim nodded and went back to his observing. Sebastian also returned to his original occupation, watching the way Jim’s pale face lit up, brown eyes hungry with glee as he gazed at the richest and most affluent part of the city. Occasionally mouthing words to himself without realising he was doing it. It made Sebastian hopeful, because it meant Jim was thinking about the future. His expression always got greedy when he thought about money and power and a potential future life where he could live in luxury, constantly entertained. And Jim imagining the future meant he was less likely to want to hurt himself. 

Jim also liked glaring out of the tinted taxi windows at men with briefcases and foreign tourists and ladies with large bags. He felt important, being warm and dry, while they scurried along looking stressed and insignificant. Even in this mighty city the people seemed like ants, like mice, like sheep that travelled in a flock. Jim had seen lots of sheep back in Ireland, in the rural areas, and he would forever associate them with stupidity and mob mentality. They represented the masses, and needed to be herded. One day Jim would be doing all the herding, and he would put the dull human minds to good use, using them for his own purposes, as stepping stones and building blocks. Like the farmers Jim had witnessed in Ireland, shouting commands that the sheep hurried to obey, lest the dog be set on them. 

Eventually, the taxi broke away from the dull grey towering structures and congested traffic, and moved into an area that was even more posh. The buildings they passed were white and had pillars at the front of them. There were little cafés scattered everywhere, and bikes chained to black railings. 

“Exhibition Road,” Dawn announced, shifting in her seat as they got ready to be dropped off at the end of the road, so they could walk the rest of the way. 

The rain was cold and irritating, but Jim didn’t mind it particularly because he was wearing one of Sebastian’s large hoodies. The oversized garment made him look tinier than ever, but Jim liked to imagine he looked as handsome and fearsome as Seb in it. The hood obscured his vision slightly, but it was worth it to have Sebastian’s scent so close. 

As the three of them bustled through London, Dawn decided they should hold hands. Jim was very small and extremely losable, she thought, and was definitely the type of boy who’d like very much to wander off for a moment, and then become accidentally separated from her and Seb. Sebastian, as always, was reliable, and stuck close to Jim’s side, even guiding him with a hand on his shoulder through the masses of gloomy looking people with umbrellas and rain macs. 

The hand holding was a good ploy to make sure Jim remained with her, because he eagerly and uncomplainingly grabbed for Sebastian’s hand and intertwined their fingers, walking proudly, although he continued to scowl at various people for reasons Dawn didn’t understand. 

Sebastian’s hands were big and getting rough because of all his fighting and climbing trees. Jim could feel some of the scratches on his knuckles and the pads of his fingertips were calloused. When the three of them reached the museum, Jim didn’t want to let go. 

“Here we are,” Dawn said cheerfully as they reached the entrance to the museum, taking down her umbrella. “Are you excited, Jim?” 

“I’m not a toddler, Dawn,” Jim drawled, although the way his skinny legs skipped was all the answer that was needed. 

Sebastian tried to pull his hand away now they were safely at their destination, but Jim clung on tightly, digging in his bitten nails as a warning.

Seb misinterpreted the possessive scratch of Jim’s nails as fear of the place, the vastness, the crowds, and responded by squeezing Jim’s hand lightly, trying to provide comfort. 

As the three of them entered the large museum, a kind man with dark skin greeted them. He was wearing a white t-shirt that said ‘The Science Museum’ on it and a name badge was pinned to the front. It said ‘Rajesh’. 

“Hello guys,” Rajesh said in welcoming tones. Although his words were clearly used often, his smile was genuine. “Ever been here before?” 

Rajesh assumed they were a family. The blond boy and the woman both had similar blue eyes, and the littlest boy was clinging to the hand of his older brother. 

“Never,” Dawn answered when neither of the boys did. Jim stared, and then got distracted by the sight of an exhibition close by. Sebastian looked gruff, his new cover for being shy, and said nothing.

“Are you two brothers then?” Rajesh asked, bending down to their level. He liked children, and he was good with them. Every day hundreds of kids came to visit the museum, and he enjoyed seeing the excitement on their faces as they appreciated science for the first time. 

Seb was about to mumble that they weren’t when Jim piped up. 

“Do you have anything on asteroids?” 

Rajesh looked taken aback by the bossy tone, but smiled. “We do indeed. Are you a fan of space? Let me guess, you want to be an astronaut?” 

Jim scoffed. “No. I wouldn’t waste my time putting my life in danger. I want to know about astrophysics and dark matter, though. It’s important.” 

“Jim’s very bright,” Dawn said proudly, smiling at Rajesh in a way that meant ‘humour him’. Dawn knew Jim hadn’t meant to be rude, but he resented the implication that he was ordinary. Everyone at the home knew that Jim was never to be called ‘normal’ or ‘ordinary’, otherwise he’d throw a sulk or a tantrum. 

“There’s plenty on asteroids,” Rajesh told him quickly, anticipating the mood swing and heading it off. “It’s good to see young people so interested in science. Maybe one day you’ll make a discovery and there’ll be an exhibit dedicated to you?” 

Jim was no longer listening. He was attempting to tug Sebastian away to the asteroid exhibit, even though he didn’t know where it was yet. 

“Dawn, we’re going to look around,” he informed her. 

“Alright, but I’m trusting you two to stick together, okay? I’ll meet you at the café in an hour, and we’ll have a snack.” 

Sebastian nodded his head, proud to have been trusted as Jim’s sort-of chaperone, and Jim finally managed to drag him away, brown eyes narrowed with determination as he scampered off, yanking on Seb’s arm ruthlessly to make him hurry. 

While Jim absorbed information like a sponge, Sebastian stayed by his side, trying to keep up with him, thinking wistfully of the interactive exhibits which were far more fun and hands-on. There was no chance of him having a go with them, though, because Jim had branded them childish. When he realised he wouldn’t remain in one place for long enough to really take anything in, he instead studied the other children around them. He was interested in sibling relationships, having yearned for one of his own for most of his life. Now he was trying to fashion himself into the perfect big brother for Jim, but without anyone to imitate, he couldn’t be sure he was doing it right. 

There were red headed triplets that giggled together and pointed at the diagram of a naked human body. Jim sent them a death glare and declared they were imbeciles. There were a dark haired brother and sister that wouldn’t stop arguing, and only shut up because their harassed looking parents bribed them with presents from the gift shop. Jim frowned at that particular pair, although the idea of the gift shop seemed to catch his attention. 

The strangest pair were standing right in front of a display on bacteria that Jim was particularly interested in. Jim was getting agitated because the older boy was chubby and taking up too much space, and the little boy in his arms was wriggling and kicking his skinny legs with agitation that mirrored Jim's, making a fuss and interrupting Jim’s thoughts. 

Sebastian knew they must be brothers because of their stuck-up, plummy voices and the fact the round boy kept referring to his complaining and squirming captive as his ‘petite frère.’ 

“I’m not a baby!” Seb heard the little boy declare. “Let me down.” 

“You’ll only run off again. We’re not having a repeat incident of the Archenhold…” 

Sebastian didn’t hear the rest of their conversation because Jim had had enough and pulled him away. The blond grinned a bit because the little boy reminded him of Jim when he first arrived at the home. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim and Sebastian met Dawn in the café an hour later. She bought Jim a chocolate chip cookie and Sebastian a sandwich. The three of them ate together in contented silence. Jim’s mind was whirring with all his new information, and he mumbled to himself every so often. Sebastian watched the other people in the café, and Dawn ate her piece of cake with a faint pink blush to her plump cheeks. 

They arrived home late in the afternoon, Jim with a bulging carrier bag of science books he’d bought for himself with the money he’d earned on jobs. He didn’t manage to buy himself the expensive forensics kit he wanted, because Dawn might have got suspicious. It was risky enough to have pulled the twenty pound notes from his sock and purchased the books. Although Sebastian helped him out and pretended he’d lent Jim some of the money and Jim was going to pay him back. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“I need to go back there soon,” Jim said as he and Sebastian were about to go to sleep that night. He was sitting cross-legged on the end of Sebastian’s bed, shoulders rounded as he read one of his recent purchases, a complex compendium of articles on the solar system from well respected scientific journals. It was clearly written for adults, but Jim had no problem understanding it, although he did memorise any scientific language he hadn’t heard of before so he could look it up later. 

“Dunno when, though,” Sebastian pointed out. It had been hard enough to get Verity to agree to it this time, and although they’d been unusually well behaved, he doubted she’d let them go again. 

“Soon,” Jim said simply, turning his page and muttering to himself. 

Sebastian didn’t want Jim to get his hopes up, so he crossed his arms behind his head and sighed. “Jim, I reckon this was a one off. You know how it is. It costs a mint to get a taxi, and the others’ll think it’s unfair.” 

“Dawn’s going back next week,” Jim pointed out mildly, still distracted. 

“What?” 

Jim finally closed his book and placed it down beside him, patting the cover with reverence. “You’re an idiot. Didn’t you see the back of her hand?” 

Sebastian looked confused. “Why would I have looked at the back of her hand?” 

“Mobile number,” Jim said. “Initials R.J. She didn’t go there with the number on her. Use your brain, Seb.” 

“The bloke at the door?” 

Jim sighed at how slowly Sebastian had caught on, but nodded. “Rajesh. Exactly. They obviously liked each other, which suits me perfectly, because that means better access to the exhibits.” 

Sebastian frowned a bit. He was protective of Dawn, and he hadn’t known of her seeing anyone before. 

“You’re not jealous are you, Seb?” Jim asked, scoffing derisively. 

“No.” 

“That idiot thought we were brothers,” Jim mused. “We look nothing alike. I don’t know where he got that idea.” 

“To be fair, we were holding hands,” Seb pointed out. 

“Brothers,” Jim hissed, clearly expressing his disgust. “We’re as un-related as it’s possible to be. Isn’t that right, Sebastian?” 

Seb couldn’t understand why Jim found the whole idea so offensive, but he nodded. “Yeah.” His heart was sinking, though. Was it really that bad to imagine being associated with him? Was he that much of a failure?

“Don’t snore tonight,” Jim commanded as he went to put his book in pride of place on Seb’s bookshelf, dislodging his newest spy novels. “I need to think about asteroids.” 

“I’ll try not to,” Sebastian mumbled. 

Jim approached Seb, dressed tonight in one of Sebastian’s old t-shirts and a pair of purple pants. He’d been allowed to chose a new set, so he’d got a pack full of fluorescent colours; green, purple, orange, yellow and pink. Sebastian had tried his best not to chuckle as Jim pranced proudly about in them. He’d bitten his tongue so hard that he tasted blood.

“Cheer up,” Jim said, throwing his arms around Sebastian’s neck briefly. “Tomorrow I’ll take you to the park if you’re good.” 

Technically, Seb was the one who took Jim to the park, seeing as he was now judged old enough to go on walks, and Jim wasn’t, but he nodded his head. 

“Night, Jim,” he mumbled, patting the smaller boy on the back. 

Jim withdrew and climbed up the ladder to his own bed. For once he was asleep in moments, his brain filled with ideas, meteors and asteroids whizzing through the darkness of his mind, stars lighting up the corners of his thoughts. And Sebastian too. Always Sebastian.


	30. Boxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian goes to watch his first boxing match with Sophie and her family.

Sophie’s father, Stephon, came to the door to charm Verity, and as Sebastian went down the path with Sophie to get in the car, he was sure he’d heard Verity laugh. It was a sound so rare that he took a moment to recognise it. 

“Oh my God, he’s so embarrassing,” Sophie complained, clambering into the back of the large car and plonking herself down. Sebastian followed a bit nervously. In the row in front was one dark head. Ben. 

“Alright, Seb?” he greeted cheerily, with easy charm, just like his dad. He turned slightly and gave him a grin. Sophie rolled her eyes. 

“Seb’s my mate, so don’t you go stealing him,” she warned mildly. 

A scoff sounded from the front of the car. “Have no fear,” came the lowest voice of the bunch. They all glanced at a man with a ponytail. “You can keep him.” 

“He thinks he’s funny,” Sophie explained, sounding exasperated. “Paul doesn’t realise he’s actually about as funny as a brick wall.” 

“Bit harsh, little sis,” Ben commented. He gave Sebastian a wink and then turned back to the front, rummaging in a large sports bag and taking out a red boxing glove. Sebastian watched the way he threw it up and down and turned it in his dark fingers. He didn’t seem nervous, just eager to get started. 

Sebastian knew that had it been him he would have felt sick already. The fighting was probably the fun part, but all the people watching certainly wasn’t Seb’s cup of tea. The thought of being observed like that, by crowds, was enough to turn his stomach. 

Sophie’s father returned to the car and settled behind the wheel. From what Sebastian could see, he looked merry, warm. He didn’t look like the American fathers Sebastian had watched in films all his life, with their grey suits and ties, but he seemed friendly and kind, and that, Seb thought, was probably better. 

“Everyone got their belts on?” he asked in the strongest accent of the four of them. 

They all agreed they did, and Stephon began to drive. 

Nobody noticed Jim’s pale and forlorn little face peering out of one of the upstairs windows, ghostly white against the dirty panes. 

“So, Sebastian, you’re our Sophie’s newest friend, eh?” Stephon asked jovially, the hint of a smile behind his words. Sophie rolled her eyes with anguish. 

“Ignore them all, Seb. Just close your eyes and pretend they aren’t here. It’s what I always do.” 

“Charming as always, Miss Sophia,” Stephon joked. He gave a loud booming sort of laugh, and smiled at Sebastian using the reflection in the mirror. 

“And what happened to Newt then?” Paul demanded from the front.

“He’s in Spain,” Sophie told him, leaning over the seat in front of her to poke Ben playfully. With lightning reflexes he grabbed Sophie’s finger between his own. 

“Nice try, little Sophia. This is why I’m the boxer and you’re the swat.” 

“Swat? I’m not a sw-“ 

Ben ignored her and turned in his seat again. He reached over the seats and presented Sebastian with a bag of sweets. 

“Here,” he offered. “Although don’t take the strawberry ones. I like those.” 

“Take a strawberry one,” Sophie said unhelpfully as she sank back in her seat and waited for the sweets to get handed to her. “I hate driving to the ring. There’s nothing to look at.” 

“Look at pretty boy,” came Paul’s voice from the front of the car. 

Three people protested that at once. Stephon reached out to give his son a playful swipe to the back of his ponytailed head and muttered in Greek. Sophie made a frustrated noise, and Ben raised an eyebrow with a scoff. 

“Paul reckons you’re going to go running off with Sophie’s fragile heart,” Ben informed him easily, his expression making it clear that he didn’t share those sentiments. “As if Little Miss Heart-of-Stone is ever going to go for a boy like you.” 

“What d’you mean?” Seb asked, a bit panicked. Was there something wrong with him? He looked at the window nearest to him, checking to see if he looked okay. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Sophie complained. “He’s messing with you, Seb,” 

Ben sighed and reached over the back of his seat to poke Sebastian in the chest. “Relax, Blondie. I only meant that Sophie would never go for a proper lad like you. She likes the more namby-pamby type.” 

“Yeah, like a certain Mr Jac-“ Paul said from the front. 

“Are we nearly there yet?” Sophie interrupted loudly, cheeks bright red. 

“Leave the poor boy alone,” Stephon reprimanded his sons. “If they bother you, Sebastian, you just lamp them one, okay?” 

Sebastian grinned. “Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t call him ‘sir’,” Sophie moaned, reaching into her jeans to find her mobile phone. “Boys, honestly…” 

“Yes, boys,” Paul pointed out. “Like the boy you’re texting back there…”

“Shut up, Paul!” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The ring turned out to be a large old sports hall with a tiny arena erected in the middle. There were areas cordoned off for the spectators, although it didn’t seem particularly professional. 

Sebastian was given the honour of carrying Ben’s boxing gloves as the group of them headed to one corner to set up. 

“Today I’m against a bloke from Scotland,” Ben told Sebastian, placing a hand on his shoulder. Sophie had fallen to the back of the group, texting, and Stephon and Paul were at the front, chattering in Greek. People greeted Sophie’s father every now and then, and he made time to smile and greet them. He seemed popular. Probably because he was so warm and quick to joke. 

“Is he big?” Seb asked, hoping he wouldn’t have to witness Ben getting too badly hurt. 

“Nah, but he’s fast. Don’t worry, though, I’ve trained for this one.” 

Sebastian nodded and stood awkwardly by as Ben peeled off his shirt and handed it to him to put away in the sports bag. Seb swallowed hard and tried not to look at his muscular chest for too long, although his eyes kept flicking back to it whenever he forgot to concentrate on not caring. 

“He’s such a show off,” Sophie commented, coming to stand next to Sebastian. “Look at him. Thinks he’s a perfect Adonis.” 

“What’s an Adonis?” Seb asked, glad of the distraction, wondering if that was another Greek term. 

“God of good looks,” Ben said, grinning at the pair of them. “What do you reckon, Seb?” he teased, flexing his muscles. “Am I the sexiest male alive, or am I not?” 

Sebastian was lucky that Sophie had launched herself at Ben for a play fight, because his mouth was hanging open in shock and for one moment, one subconscious dangerous moment, Seb had almost said ‘yes.’ 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Ben’s opponent had massive ears and green eyes. Sebastian didn’t pay much attention to him, though, because his gaze was on Ben. He took in the way he almost skipped from side to side, feet light for such a large boy, his movements easy and well thought out. He didn’t waste a second, going in for a punch every time his opponent’s guard was down, moving back whenever he got close enough to get in a swing of his own. 

Sebastian found himself shouting at the top of his lungs along with Sophie and her family. Even Paul had clapped him on the shoulder in acceptance as they yelled support for Ben. There were a few tense moments where it looked like Ben wasn’t going to be quick enough to dodge a blow, but he always did. 

At half time, Ben sank into a chair at the corner of the ring, near to where Sophie, Seb, Paul and Stephon were waiting. Paul climbed through the elasticated ropes of the ring and handed his younger brother a bottle of water. Stephon went in as well, ruffling Ben’s hair ineffectually since he didn’t have much, and praised him in Greek. Sophie grinned at Sebastian, proud to show off her family now they were doing so well. It was clear, even now, that Ben was going to win the fight.

“Go in with the towel,” Sophie prompted, wanting to get Sebastian involved, aware that he was hanging back slightly. She shoved the towel at Seb and nudged him towards the ropes, holding them apart for him. 

Seb climbed into the ring and hastily held out the towel to Ben, who was conversing with his father. He had taken the red teeth guard out of his mouth and was grinning. 

“Ah, Seb. Fling the towel over,” holding out his gloved hands clumsily. “You enjoying it so far?” 

Seb did as he was told and watched as Ben awkwardly wiped the sweat from his forehead and shoulders. 

“Yeah, you’re really good,” Sebastian admitted, having to shout over the sound of the rowdy spectators. 

“Thick you can hack it?” he asked, as Paul poured water over his brother’s head to keep him cool. 

Sebastian grinned a bit awkwardly. “You serious?” 

Ben nodded. “Yeah, I always fancied doing a bit of coaching. You can be my protégé.” 

“Cheers,” Sebastian mumbled, his smile broad. 

“That is, if you’re good enough,” Ben teased, getting to his feet now as the chair was dragged out of the ring. “I’ll put you through your paces. We’ve got a load of training equipment in the basement.” The spectators were roaring again, and Ben’s opponent was also standing up now, not looking nearly as confident as Ben. 

“Cheers, Ben!” Seb shouted, as the crowd reached a crescendo. He moved out of the way with Paul and Stephon and they got ready to watch the second half of Ben’s fight. Sebastian had his fingers crossed on both hands. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“And then he just went a jabbed him, bang! Right under the chin. Straight for the jaw, Jim, Could have knocked out his teeth if he wasn’t wearing a guard.” 

“How interesting,” Jim drawled in a tone that clearly expressed anything but interest. 

“And they do this thing with their feet, all nimble. At first I thought it looked fucking stupid, but then they started moving and they were so fast. Sort of on their toes the whole time. Second guessing each other. Ben was always faster though, he knows what he’s doing.” 

“Hm?”

“Yeah, he deserved the trophy. You should have heard the crowd. Now he’s got a ton. Sophie’s dad’s gonna have to put a new shelf up soon.” 

“Waste of time,” Jim judged, turning his page. 

“No,” Sebastian argued. “It’s a test of speed, strength, reflexes and endurance. Plus you’ve got to be brave to do it. All those people watching. I mean, you can break bones. Ben had his nose broken last year.” 

When it became clear Sebastian wasn’t going to stop babbling on about one of the most boring things Jim had ever had the misfortune to hear about, he tutted loudly. 

“You make it sound like an art.” 

“It is. It’s a noble sport,” Sebastian parroted, having heard Ben declare it earlier that day. 

“Sebastian, it’s two people in a ring hitting each other until one collapses under the strain.” 

Sebastian shook his head. “Nah, you don’t get it. You had to be there.” 

“I’m glad I wasn’t,” Jim said nastily. “It sounds like the place was full of idiots. And then Sophie was there…” 

“Lay off Sophie.” 

“I’m only saying that the whole sport seems childish, and I wouldn’t waste my time with it. If I wanted to see a fight, I’d get you to beat up Bradley again.” 

“That’s not a fight, Jim.” 

“Either way it doesn’t matter. I’m assuming this Ben still wants to teach you how to punch more accurately?” 

Sebastian frowned a bit. “Yeah. But it’s more complicated than just punching more accurately. It’s a whole new discipline.” 

“I don’t care, Sebastian,” Jim remarked, waving his wrist. “Yes, I want you to get stronger. But I don’t want to have to listen to your inane ramblings on the subject.” 

Sebastian looked offended. “I was only telling you about my day.” 

“Well I don’t care. It means nothing to me.” 

Jim had noticed the new spark in Sebastian’s eyes, and he didn’t like it one bit. The last time it had appeared was after Seb’s trip to Sophie’s house, and now he had been out with her family it had happened again. No matter what Sebastian said, Jim knew that Sophie was the cause. She had to be. Nasty, ugly, tomboy Sophie. With her stupid boxing and her stupid family and her stupid age. Two years older than he was, and that gave her an advantage Jim couldn’t possibly contend with. At least, not yet. 

Seb sat down next to Jim looking a bit disappointed. He was quiet for a moment, then he inclined his head at the book in Jim’s hands. 

“What’re you reading?” 

“If you read the title of the book, you’d know that this one is about human biology and evolution,” Jim snapped, eyes still on his page. 

“Right,” Seb mumbled, desperate for Jim to show him some affection. “Is it any good?” 

Jim frowned and looked up, glaring at Seb. 

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, scanning his face. “One minute you’re trying to bore me, the next you want my attention.” 

Sebastian shifted a bit closer. His stomach was still twisting darkly, despite the excitement that shared his body. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but he knew Jim would make it better. Jim made everything better. 

“Nothing,” he mumbled. 

“You’re lying, but I’m going to let it go for now,” Jim said warningly. “Now, I’m trying to read, so if you’re that desperate to be in my company, you can sit quietly.” 

“Okay,” Sebastian agreed. Anything to return to normality and stop the icy chill that kept seizing his spine when his brain started moving too fast. 

“Good boy. Now move back a bit, you’re blocking my light.” 

Obediently, Sebastian shuffled back against the wall so he was sort of behind Jim, his long legs stretched out next to him, resting against Jim’s knee. Over his shoulder he could see the two pages Jim was currently reading. His face flushed when he noticed it was about human reproduction, but Jim didn’t even flinch. He didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest, his brown eyes were just following the text steadily, undaunted by what he was reading, not at all concerned by the fact Sebastian was right behind him. 

Seb could see two very detailed diagrams of the male and female body. He blinked at them both and then looked away, embarrassed. 

“They teach you that stuff at school?” Sebastian asked a bit warily, wondering how much Jim actually knew. 

“If you’re about to give me the sex talk, then don’t you dare breathe a word, because I will gouge out your eyes.” 

Sebastian grinned a bit. “Just checking you knew.” 

“I’m a little old to believe in storks and their baby delivery service, Sebastian,” Jim said softly, chuckling a little. “And anyway, it doesn’t bother me. It makes no difference to my life.” 

“You think?” 

“I know,” Jim muttered. “Now be silent, ‘Bastian.” 

“Might not make that much of a difference to me either,” Seb offered weakly, but he was hushed quickly, and he couldn’t be sure if Jim had heard him properly or not.


	31. The Summer Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim makes the most of his trips to the museum, and Sebastian is distrustful of Dawn's new boyfriend.

The summer holidays flew by in a rush of trips to the Science Museum, Sebastian’s boxing lessons with Ben and Sophie, and plenty of days wandering around the local neighbourhood, seeing as Sebastian was now judged old enough and responsible enough to take Jim on walks, provided they were home before dinner and didn’t cause any trouble. 

Dawn was brighter than ever, her cheeks pink, smiling far more than she used to, evening singing to herself sometimes when she cooked the dinner. The littler children thought of her as something of a Disney Princess and joined in with her, while Jim and Sebastian remained resolutely silent. 

Jim, who was coincidentally a terrible singer anyway, found the whole thing faintly sickening. He liked Dawn more than most, but her newfound happiness reminded him of how miserable he was and he never liked the songs she sang. They were silly and girly and made Jim pout and sulk. 

Sebastian was silent for a completely different reason. He was suspicious of this Rajesh character, and was determined to keep his eyes peeled, ready to jump to Dawn’s rescue should he treat her badly. Dawn was like Sebastian’s big sister, and as much as he enjoyed seeing her so cheerful, the source of her happiness caused him a lot of inner conflict. Finding it almost impossible to trust, Sebastian had convinced himself that Rajesh was a dodgy character, that he was the enemy. 

Jim had been perfectly lovely to Rajesh when Dawn had taken him down to the Science Museum for the second time, Sebastian remaining a mute and uncharacteristically grumpy presence at his side. Jim had smiled sweetly and asked charming and intelligent questions and hadn’t even contradicted the man once. It had to be done, he reasoned, because keeping on his good side meant the opportunity to come to the museum more often. Raj, as he wanted the boys to call him, was admittedly kind and well-meaning, and smart enough for Jim not to screw his nose up with displeasure each time he saw him, but he was nothing special, and Jim felt absolutely no emotion for him. Raj was a stepping stone, a rung on the ladder that led to knowledge and getting what Jim wanted. So he would persevere with acting agreeable until the situation no longer suited him. Then he could be himself again. 

“I tell you what, I expect you could go to university early if you really wanted,” Raj had remarked one day at the museum, as he crouched beside Jim in front of the display on dark matter. “You’re a bright young man, and sometimes they do make exceptions. I knew a girl who was put ahead two years because she was so intelligent.” 

Jim raised an eyebrow and feigned mild interest. The idea had already occurred to him, but he wasn’t going to take any offers he got. He needed to stay with Sebastian for as long as possible, besides, it would be no good to have attention drawn to himself and his abilities. The fewer people knew about that, the better. 

“I have a niece about your age,” Raj had continued in his friendly tones. “She’s a nice girl. You’d like her.” 

Jim only just resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He very much doubted he would like her. One, she was a girl, and two, she was probably stupid like most people. “Oh, really?” he asked sweetly. 

Rajesh nodded. “She lives quite a way from here though. At the moment she’s in India with her mother. My sister never wanted to come over here when I did.” 

“I see,” he mumbled, eyes on the exhibit. Jim didn’t care for hearing Rajesh’s boring backstory, but he could hardly say so if he wanted this free pass into the museum. 

“So I know a little of what it’s like to move from your native country,” Raj continued. “I was twelve when I made the journey, and I’ve not regretted it.” 

“Eight,” Jim responded vaguely, before remembering he had to act a little more interested. “I was eight when I came here. From Dublin. Not the nice part.” 

Rajesh gave a sad smile and patted Jim on the back. For a moment, Jim wanted to wield to that touch, as he felt no malice in it, just pure comfort, but then he reminded himself that nobody was allowed to touch him except for Sebastian and he went stiff. From across the room, Jim could tell Sebastian would be watching the situation intently, ready to charge in should he need to. He was like a bodyguard, Jim mused. 

“My part of India wasn’t the best either,” Rajesh revealed. “When people think of my country, they think of elephants and tigers and things like that. But there’s a lot of poverty, a lot of problems too. It isn’t just a tourist destination.” 

Jim quirked an eyebrow. “People think Ireland is full of leprechauns, sheep, and is completely green. Oh, and they think we all hate the English. And say ‘feck’.” 

Rajesh gave a genuine laugh and nodded his head.

“I don’t say feck, though,” Jim told him seriously. 

“No? What do you say?” 

“Well, Sebastian says fuck, and he says it for me. I can make him swear whenever I want. I can make him do anything.” 

The man didn’t reprimand Jim for swearing, he merely gave a slightly guilty smile and then stood up, ready to set up the barriers that cordoned off certain exhibits for the day. 

As Rajesh moved a safe distance away from Jim, Sebastian loped over from across the room to Jim’s side, blue eyes narrowed. 

“Did he give you stick?” he grunted. 

“No, if he had done I would have called you over. I can tell you’re itching to punch him in the face.” 

“More than itching,” Sebastian agreed nastily. He sniffed and attempted to click his knuckles. It didn’t work though. 

“Well don’t you dare,” Jim warned Seb lightly, as he tilted his head, reading the information in front of him for the fifth time to make sure he remembered it. “There’s no fun in you losing your temper if you do it without my permission.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“You’re a good actor,” Sebastian told Jim as they sat together at the end of the dinner table, far enough away from the others that they could talk in peace. Verity had long since stopped telling them to be more sociable because it never worked. If she attempted to mix them in with the other kids then Sebastian would get angry and Jim would threaten to harm himself. If she subtly made one of the other children move so the pair wouldn’t be able to sit together, Sebastian would growl and the poor child would rush out of the way. 

“Am I?”

“You know you are. All that sweetness and light stuff with Rajesh. It’s weird.” 

“How so?” 

“You, being nice to people.” 

“I’m nice to you,” Jim pointed out with a mock hurt expression, jutting out his lower lip slightly. 

“Sometimes you are,” Sebastian conceded doubtfully. 

“Well, okay, I’m not nice to you. Sometimes I’m very, very cruel, but I only do it because I can.” 

“Thought you were going to say because you care for a minute there.” 

Jim pushed a potato around his plate idly and then sighed. 

“Don’t talk nonsense. Now here, you can eat my chicken. I’m on hunger strike.” 

Sebastian shook his head. 

“No, you promised. Just have a few bites.” 

Jim made a whining noise, and that told Sebastian that this was a bit of a game. If he’d been serious he would have snapped. No, he wanted to be babied and cared for, although he couldn’t admit it. 

‘How much do I have to have?” Jim asked.

Sebastian picked up his knife and cut a tiny portion off Jim’s chicken. It was around the size of a small bar of soap. “That much.” 

Pouting, Jim speared the chicken with his fork and nibbled on it tentatively. 

“You hate him,” Jim pointed out, switching topics so swiftly that Seb had to take a moment to realise who he was referring to. “You need to stop taking everything so personally and just accept that he’s my ticket to a lot of things.” 

“Like what?” Sebastian scoffed. 

“To knowledge. To science. To the right resources. Potentially contacts.” 

The blond narrowed his eyes with confusion. Jim had recently taken to using business terms and tried to slip them into their conversations whenever possible. Sebastian knew they were for his benefit. No matter how much Jim scorned the idea that he cared what anyone thought of him, Sebastian could tell when Jim was trying to show off. 

‘You’ve lost me,” Seb admitted, not ashamed in the slightest. He took a swig of his water and put his knife and fork together, having finished everything on his plate.

Jim frowned, rolling his eyes and putting his chicken down. “That’s because compared to me you’re stupid.” 

“Eat your chicken,” Sebastian said mildly, with a slight sigh. 

“Don’t spoil my chances with Rajesh,” Jim retorted. “If you ruin everything for me then I will end you.” 

It was obvious to Sebastian that he wasn’t being genuinely threatened, because Jim’s eyes were still as large as usual, and his posture was relatively relaxed. 

“You wouldn’t end me,” he pointed out, hoping that this was true. Jim could get into real rages though, and he probably did have the potential to hurt him. He certainly had the intelligence to make the whole thing look like an accident, and a lack of physical strength didn’t really matter. Seb knew there were plenty of ways to kill people, and most had nothing to do with physical violence.

“Oh, but I would,” Jim said in his sweet and increasingly threatening voice. 

Sebastian rubbed at his forehead and glanced down the table, wondering which pudding they’d have tonight. He hoped it was apple crumble. 

“Eat your bloody chicken,” he reminded Jim. 

“Don’t think just because you’re my friend I wouldn’t get rid of you if you got in my way,” Jim declared, wanting Sebastian’s attention back. The stupid oaf was clearly thinking about his stomach. Honestly, Jim thought, it was a wonder he wasn’t the size of a house with the amount he ate. 

“Right. Fine. Eat your fucking chicken.” 

“I don’t want to eat my chicken!” 

“Jim Moriarty,” Verity called down the table, making both the boys look up in united hatred. “You will eat your chicken. Now.” 

Sebastian knew she’d gone and ruined any chance of Jim actually coming around to the idea now. Predictably, Jim pushed his chair back and crossed his arms over his chest, glowering. 

“Please, Jim,” Sebastian mumbled, knowing Verity’s eyes were still on him. She hated it when he and Jim whispered together. Sebastian thought she was nosy. Too nosy for her own good. Or as Jim liked to declare, and had taken to saying quite often ‘well we all know what killed the cat.’

“No.” 

“Come on. What’ll make you eat it?” 

“You’re offering an incentive?” 

Jim’s interest had now been piqued. 

“Yeah, I s’pose so.” 

“Can I have a…” he hummed for a moment, deep in thought. A few delicious ideas had formed in his head, but most of them were unrealistic. “Kiss?” 

Seb nodded. “One kiss on the forehead. Done.” 

“No, I mean a proper one.” 

Sebastian looked confused. “Cheek?” 

“Mouth.” 

There was a pause where Sebastian looked a bit concerned, but then he just sighed, screwing up his features tiredly.

“Fucking hell, no.” 

Jim looked momentarily stricken, but brushed it away quickly, forcing himself to laugh. “I was only joking. Of course I meant on the cheek. Honestly, Sebastian…”

Sebastian grinned back, nodding. “Yeah, sure. Done deal. You eat the chicken, I give you a kiss on the cheek.” 

Jim desperately wanted to kiss Sebastian on the mouth, like teenagers did in films. The thoughts had come on quite suddenly over the past few weeks, and it upset him that Sebastian would ruin his fun like that. Still, you couldn’t force people to kiss you on the mouth. Otherwise there was no point.

Eyeing his enemy, the piece of chicken, with distaste, Jim began to nibble at it once again. He would make Sebastian want to kiss him on the mouth one day. And then he’d be sorry he hadn’t done it sooner. He just needed a few more years on his side to help with the persuasion.


	32. Seb's Thirteenth Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian turns thirteen.

Sebastian’s birthday fell on September the twenty-ninth, which Jim knew made him a Libra. He also knew that Sebastian shared a birthday with Pompey, the Roman general and Caravaggio, the Italian painter. Jim didn’t believe in star signs and superstitions, but he drank in information about Sebastian like a boy dying of thirst, his fingers clutching greedily at any shards of information that would allow him to dig his nails further into his friend, both trapping and understanding him at once. 

On the day Sebastian turned thirteen, Jim’s heart broke for the first time. 

Sebastian woke up bright and early, dressed, washed, and headed downstairs, trying not to wake Jim. Jim pretended to be asleep, but really he was listening and watching when he could. By the time Jim was dressed it was six o’clock and he followed Sebastian down the stairs, wanting to find out what he was doing. 

He was greeted by the sight of Seb waiting eagerly by the front door at six in the morning, blue eyes so much more incredibly hopeful than Jim was used to. Facially, he looked like an optimistic child, the type Sebastian had probably never had the chance to be, although his limbs were stretched out, long and lanky. Jim knew he was waiting for a letter, or a present, and he inwardly cringed, knowing the likelihood of him getting his wish was slim.

Jim supposed Sophie and Newt might give Sebastian cards, and he knew that Dawn had bought Seb a present, but that wasn’t what Sebastian was waiting for. He wanted contact from his family.

And then the post came and went in a rush of bills and junk mail, and there was no sign of a card from his mother. 

Seb sat numbly by the door, sniffing and refusing to talk to anyone, shoulders squared. Not one single solitary card. Not from the uncles he knew he had, or even from the neighbours. Maybe his mother had forgotten? No, Sebastian told himself. How could anyone forget the day they gave birth? If Sebastian had a baby son one day, he’d remember the date of his birth easily. The information would be engraved into his brain. There wasn’t even a slight chance he might forget it, even if the little boy was in care. 

After ten minutes of trying to stop his face from crumpling, he started to kick at the front door and let his head fall into his large hands. 

Jim was the only person who dared approach, and even he was grunted at and decided to back off for his own safety. He knew Sebastian would never consciously hurt him, but Jim was aware enough to tell that his best friend was experiencing one of his rare turns and was perfectly capable of causing damage to any person that infuriated him. There was a lot of anger locked up inside of Sebastian, even though Seb had worked hard to trap it behind walls so it couldn’t get out unless he needed it to. One of Sebastian’s biggest fears was of losing control of himself, which was part of the reason he liked to be given orders. Although it seemed a contradiction, Jim understood the weight of the pressure Sebastian put on himself to be perfect, and the thought of doing what someone told him, oddly enough, seemed to reassure the older boy. Jim suspected he didn’t trust himself as good enough to make his own decisions. So long as he had someone to anchor him, Sebastian felt safe, and when he had clear objectives, he was less likely to fly off the handle. 

“Come away, ‘Bastian,” Jim whispered an hour later, having nibbled on a piece of toast with raspberry jam on, leaning against the wall at a safe distance from Sebastian’s form. He tentatively placed his tiny hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and for a moment he felt the muscles tense, but Seb seemed to recognise him and respond to the rare gentleness. He blinked a bit, then stood up, looking more like a lost little boy than Jim had ever seen him. 

“That’s a good boy,” Jim praised as he led Sebastian back into the kitchen so he could eat breakfast, birthday sausages cooked by Dawn with baked beans and scrambled eggs.

Jim spent the following day at school wondering why a mother wouldn’t want to know her son if he was like Sebastian. Obviously the situation was different with him. Jim knew that he was broken and probably mad and so it was natural for his parents not to bother with him. But Sebastian was an entirely separate case. He was perfect, and it seemed utterly impossible to the nearly eleven year old that anyone wouldn’t want to associate themselves with him. Had she not realised how valuable he was? How much raw potential he had? Did Mrs Eleanor Moran not ever want to see how handsome Sebastian had become?

Sebastian’s father was still in prison, serving a sentence for child abuse, domestic violence and GBH. Jim had taken the time to look that up by hacking into a few police databases, but he wouldn’t be away for long. In a few years, should he be clever enough to serve his sentence obediently, which Jim supposed he would, the Colonel could be out again, back on the streets. He was going to die, though. Jim would make sure of that. Nobody hurt Sebastian and got away with it. But the method of his murder was, as yet, undecided. Jim was going to ponder that one for a long while, really stretch his resources. 

Jim gave Sebastian his present when they were both home from school, Jim having been asked to take over a meeting about logistics on Paul’s behalf that day. He’d found he rather enjoyed it, and the others were so overwhelmed by his intelligence that it seemed they forgot to talk down to him because of his age. 

The responsibility suited him, he felt, and he enjoyed giving out commands instead of just solving problems and taking orders from people less intelligent than himself. 

In one of his better moods, Jim presented Sebastian with a carrier bag and then stood with his hands neatly clasped behind his back, watching as Sebastian glanced at what he’d been handed, looking surprised. 

“I didn’t bother to wrap them because the paper only gets torn, and it would have been a waste of my time,” he declared. 

Sebastian turned the bag over in his large hands, reverent, with a respectful clumsiness that Jim could tell he’d grow out of. Once the dreaded puberty was over and Jim had worked a little on Sebastian’s confidence issues, he was going to have steady hands, almost surgically precise in their movements. Being nervous was a big problem for Sebastian, which amused Jim because he thought Seb had the least reason to be nervous in the world. Well, perhaps getting beaten up all those times as a toddler had made him wary, but now he was older he was strong, he was handsome, he was intelligent. He could have the world if he wanted it, but he didn’t. Jim didn’t know yet if that was a good or a bad thing. 

“Open the damn thing, Sebastian. Stop being silly. Why are you waiting so long? You’re making me nervous.” 

“Sorry,” Seb mumbled, instantly reaching into the bag and pulling out a small black box. He lifted the lid tentatively and grinned at the contents. Jim had bought him a new watch with an army print strap. The blond grinned gratefully up at Jim, who was trying his best not to preen. 

“And there’s something else,” Jim pointed out sternly. “I got you two presents.” 

The second gift was a book of Marvel comics about Captain America who was Seb’s current favourite Avenger. Jim didn’t think much of comics at all. In his mind the art was sloppy and inconsistent, the stories were predictable, and the characters two-dimensional. If he’d had to pick a favourite out of Sebastian’s ghastly comics he would have gone for Iron Man, just because he was so intelligent and was skilled with technology and science. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Sebastian said quietly, looking over his new book with a stunned and thrilled glint in his blue eyes. 

“But I did, because I wanted to,” Jim pointed out. “And I didn’t get you anything for your last birthday because I had no funds. So you’re not allowed to be sad anymore. I forgive you for this morning, but now it has to stop.” 

“I wasn’t sad this morning,” Sebastian lied self-consciously. He sniffed and then shrugged, eyes on the carpet. 

Jim gave a long sigh and padded across the bedroom. He picked up Sebastian’s watch and took it out of its box. 

“Give me your hand,” he commanded lightly. “I’m going to put it on you.” 

Sebastian presented Jim with his left hand, which made Jim chuckle. “Why not the right?” he asked, smirking knowingly. 

“I’m right handed,” Seb pointed out, looking confused. “You put a watch on the hand you don’t use, right? The least dominant one.” 

“That’s very true,” Jim agreed solemnly. “I was just pointing out that both your hands are your dominant one.” 

Sebastian furrowed his brow. 

“How can you tell?” 

“That you’re ambidextrous? It’s easy. I’ve lived with you for a few years now, Seb. I can just see these things. In fact, I can read you like a book. Better than a book. You’re more obvious to me than that.” 

Jim finished putting Sebastian’s watch on him with careful fingers and then drew back to examine the timepiece. “It’s expensive,” he pointed out to a rather conflicted-looking Sebastian. “The strap isn’t so much, but I thought you’d like that better than plain black.” 

“I do like it better,” Sebastian assured him. 

Jim gave his best friend a weak smile and then reached out to pat him on the head. Like a pet, Sebastian leaned into the touch. It was incredibly precious, Jim thought, and delicious. Jim had successfully made himself the only person Sebastian felt wholly comfortable with. 

“Don’t you fret about your mother,” Jim soothed him gently, using his wisest voice, the one far beyond his years. “You have me, don’t you?” 

Sebastian just looked sad, blinking a bit and sniffing. 

“You and your silly ideals of masculinity,” Jim commented with affection, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to act like a big strong man all the time. Just most of it.” 

“You must miss your mum, though,” Sebastian pointed out quietly. “Even though she wasn’t around so much towards the end.” 

Jim tilted his head to one side, sensing an emotional conversation was on the cards. Well, it had to be dealt with, and as quickly as possible. If he wanted Sebastian to continue to trust him, he had to put himself out to cope with this oddly sensitive part of his best friend. 

The ten year old perched himself on Sebastian’s lap like he had when he was much smaller and then rested his forehead against Seb’s neck, giving silent affection. 

“I’m not like you,” Jim whispered. “You know I’m not. I don’t miss my mother and I won’t ever miss her. I won’t ever regret that she died, and I won’t ever feel sad about it.” 

“I sometimes… miss my mum,” Sebastian admitted quietly, the words difficult to even think, let alone have come out of his mouth. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” Jim crooned, draping his arms around Sebastian’s neck. “I know, ‘Bastian.” 

“I really thought she might… you know, write to me this one time. ‘Cause I’m not some kid anymore.” 

“Have you considered that she might simply not care?” Jim asked, without malice. 

Sebastian went very stiff and then Jim spotted a droplet of water falling on his own leg. 

“Now, let’s not be silly,” he instructed gently. “There’s no need to cry. Crying won’t solve anything. Is crying going to make your mother care?” 

“No,” Sebastian managed to breathe out. 

“So stop,” Jim commanded. “Stop crying and think about your new life. Think about me. You know how I hate it when you cry.” 

“Sorry,” Sebastian mumbled, focusing on anything that might make the tears stop.

“She’s still around, you know,” Jim revealed after a moment. “In London. Your family had quite a bit of money once upon a time, although I think your father wasted a lot of that on drink.” 

“We had money?” Seb asked, confused. For some reason he’d never thought about his life before in material terms. All he’d ached for was his parents and a family of his own. Money hadn’t crossed his mind. 

“You’re still due to inherit a lot when your mother and father die,” Jim told him. “That’s still in place, even if they seem to have abandoned you. So one day you’ll be reasonably well-off.” 

“I don’t care about the cash,” Seb said quickly, truly meaning that. Money meant very little to him, having never really had it. 

“Anyway,” Jim continued, deciding not to correct that foolish sentiment. “Your mother could have visited you by now, but she never has. So I’d stop waiting for her now. It’s been years and years, and you have to stop sometime, otherwise you’ll never have peace of mind.” 

“But she’s my mum,” Sebastian mumbled desperately, although he knew Jim’s words were true. Deep down he knew that his mother was never coming to see him, that he was too much of a disappointment to be worthy of her time. But he didn’t want to admit that to himself. The thought of being rejected by the woman who’d given birth to him was too painful. 

Poor Sebastian, Jim thought. Yes, the crying was disgusting, and it made his stomach feel funny, but Sebastian was the one person in the world Jim was capable of feeling empathy for, so he was experiencing an odd portion of Sebastian’s own emotions. If this was the way normal people felt, then he didn’t know how they managed. Being tied to someone so tight was hard. Having more than one person to worry about must have been simply unbearable. 

“Do you trust me?” Jim whispered, turning Sebastian’s chin to make the older boy look at him properly. 

“Yeah,” Seb breathed out, nodding. 

“Then you’ll know that I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m better than she ever was. I’m going to keep you safe and watch over you and that still stands no matter what you say or do. Do you understand?” 

Sebastian swallowed, hardly daring to believe it. To believe in Jim’s generosity. 

“Unconditional?” 

“Absolutely,” Jim murmured. “Unconditional. Now aren’t you a lucky birthday boy?”


	33. Firework Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Guy Fawkes Night, and also the evening before Jim's eleventh birthday.

“Remember remember the fifth of November, gunpowder, treason and plot. I see no reason why gunpowder, treason, should ever be forgot,” Jim chanted lowly, staring out of the window and into the darkness, where fireworks were blazing and popping, shattering shards of light that exploded like constellations and faded to nothing without so much as a whimper. He sat deadly still, entranced, and seemed not to blink at all. 

“They tried to kill King James the first, but they couldn’t,” he informed Sebastian, who was sitting on his bed and watching Jim with vague concern. Clearly Jim was experiencing detachment, or as the books Sebastian had read called it, derealisation, a symptom of Jim’s mental illnesses. His pale legs were crossed and his hands sat neatly clasped in his lap. Jim was this evening wearing one of Sebastian’s vests and a pair of bright green underpants, although no socks despite the chilly evening.

“Right,” Sebastian mumbled. He never knew what to say to Jim when he started to talk this way, so he tried to support him with his presence. 

“Just like how nobody will ever be able to overthrow me.”

Sebastian nodded and got up so he could move closer to Jim. He paused by the desk that Jim was sitting on, letting his fingers drum on the wooden surface.

“But people will try,” Jim added cryptically. 

Nobody could tell if Jim was born on the fifth or the sixth of November, seeing as he’d apparently been expelled from his mother at midnight. He’d always chosen the sixth to celebrate on, but it didn’t really matter. When he was little his family had been so poor he hadn’t got any good presents anyway. His birthdays were just normal days, although he had a few boring cards. 

“I won’t let them,” Sebastian volunteered, climbing onto the desk as well, slightly awkwardly because he was larger than Jim. Eventually he settled beside him, large feet up against the glass of the window, legs slightly bent. 

“I know. That’s part of how I know they won’t destroy me.” 

Sebastian didn’t turn his head to look at Jim. Instead he glanced at the window, and watched Jim’s reflection, where his eyes seemed even more prominent than usual, his face paler. 

“Birthday tomorrow,” Seb reminded him unnecessarily. “I’ve got you a present.” 

Usually the talk of presents would have excited Jim out of his stupor, but not this time. His mind was too far away.

“No, my birthday is today and tomorrow. Nobody ever knew if I was born on the right side of midnight or not.” 

“Why’d they pick the sixth then? We celebrated on the sixth last year.” 

“Because the plot failed, I expect,” Jim murmured, attention caught on a green firework that exploded like cannon fire and then spiraled out like a sad, sweeping willow tree. 

“But the plot wasn’t actually about you,” Sebastian said carefully, needing to ground Jim in reality, because his mind could so easily run away until it was so far removed from the real world that Jim looked shocked by his actual surroundings. 

“Might have been.” 

Knowing there was nothing else he could do when Jim was in a trance, Sebastian didn’t correct Jim and let him get on with it, trying to think of better times, times when Jim’s medication might actually do some good instead of leaving him detached and seemingly psychotic. 

Jim chuckled as a firework whistled in the distance. 

“Don’t you remember, the fifth of November, ‘twas gunpowder treason day. I let off my gun, and made ’em all run. And stole all their bonfire away,” he half sang. 

“I like that one,” Seb said gruffly, not pointing out that hearing Jim’s small singing voice put him on edge. It shouldn’t have been sinister, because Jim was nothing to fear, and he wouldn’t ever be, not to Seb, but Sebastian did have to remind himself that Jim simply wasn’t well to keep himself calm. 

“It’s from seventeen forty-two.” 

“Oh.”

“The fifth of November, since I can remember, was Guy Fawkes, poke him in the eye. Shove him up the chimney-pot and there let him die. A stick and a stake for King George’s sake, if you give me one, I’ll take two. The better for me and the worse for you. A ricket-a-racket your hedges shall go.” 

“Never heard that one before,” Seb admitted. 

“It’s from nineteen hundred and three,” Jim said, sounding distracted. His head followed the progress of a pink firework, and his lips parted with awe as it crackled in the darkness.

“Did they teach you those in Dublin?” Seb asked. 

Jim sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his attention momentarily to Sebastian, feeling his stupidity merited a glance. “We didn’t celebrate Guy Fawkes night in Ireland. Think about it, ‘Bastian. The Catholic plot got foiled. Most of us in Dublin were Catholics.” 

Sebastian nodded. “So that’s why you like them so much?” he asked, pointing at the window. “You didn’t have fireworks?” 

“No, we did, but not many. There are silly laws, Sebby. Boring laws. But we did have Bonfire Night. In June, though, not November.” 

“What was it like?” Seb asked, pushing his luck slightly because it felt safe for now. Usually Jim’s childhood was off limits, but he seemed talkative this evening.

Jim pondered that for a moment. In his council estate, Bonfire Night had been a time when people burned their rubbish and ran about with illegal sparklers imported from Northern Ireland. They used to scare Jim, although that might have been because the teenagers and drunk people with them liked to get so aggressive. One time, when Jim was three, one of the neighbours houses burned down in the night. He still remembered the smell and the sight of the house all ablaze. Jim had watched from his bedroom window as men fought to put it out, but they were too late and the fire too fierce. An old man died in it, although that didn’t matter to Jim. He had shouted at him once when he was out with his mother, and Jim had stuck his tongue out at him. At the time Jim had thought it served him right. Seeing what happened to that house, how quickly it became a smoking ball of orange flame, was what inspired Jim to attempt to kill his family in the same way all those years later. 

“Boring,” he said vaguely. 

The bedroom was dark, with the lights out so Jim could better appreciate the spectacle happening in the London skies. It was ten in the evening, though, so the boys had to be quiet. Although they were supposed to be in bed, most of the children were secretly watching from their windows, so they reckoned it was unlikely they’d be told off. Even Verity was lenient on firework night. 

Jim rested his head against Sebastian’s shoulder and reached out for his hand so he could hold it. Seb gave Jim’s smaller palm a tiny squeeze. 

“I’m a Scorpio and you’re a Libra,” Jim commented quietly, when the fireworks seemed to subside a bit. “That’s interesting, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t realise you went in for all that superstitious stuff,” Seb admitted. “I dunno anything about star signs.” 

“I don’t go in for it,” Jim said scornfully, huffing. “I was merely pointing it out.” 

Sebastian nodded. “Go on then. Tell me about it. Educate me.” 

“Well,” Jim began quietly. “You’re a Libra, which uses the scales as its symbol. Your ruling element is air, although that’s obviously nonsense. Libras are supposed to be one of the most attractive star signs, and they tend to believe in fair play, peace and harmony. Justice and things like that.” 

“Peace and harmony? Doesn’t sound like me.” 

“No, not really. I was just saying. I did some research.” 

“And what about yours?” 

“I don’t know much about mine. Only that the symbol is a scorpion and we’re not very nice.” 

Sebastian nodded. It seemed extremely unlike Jim to look into something so unreliable, but he wasn’t going to point that out. It would only make Jim cross. 

“How come you know mine and not yours?” 

“I don’t need to know about me, do I? I am me. I’m not you.” 

There was a long silence and then the fireworks started again. Jim’s attention wasn’t on them fully this time. He stroked the back of Sebastian’s hand gently, soothing himself with the motions. 

“Sebastian is the name of a saint,” Jim informed Seb gravely. 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “I know. That’s why I was called it.”

“And do you like your name?” 

“Yeah, it’s in a Shakespeare play.” 

“Which?” 

“Twelfth Night. We’re doing it in English. There are these twins, boy and a girl, called Viola and Sebastian. Basically they-“ 

Jim lifted his free hand to silence Sebastian. 

“I don’t care about that, ‘Bastian.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

When Jim offered nothing more to the conversation, Seb piped up again. 

“Sebastian’s a Christian name. Like yours.” 

“True.” 

“And do you like it? Being called James?” 

“Do you know how many people I know called James?” Jim demanded with a weary sigh. It should have been obvious to Sebastian from the fact he got everyone to call him ‘Jim’ that he loathed his full name. 

“No.” 

“Seven.”

“I know three, excluding you.” 

“Which is why I hate it,” Jim told him pompously. “It’s common. Everyone knows a James or a Jamie, but hardly anyone knows a Jim.” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Seb agreed. “You’re too special to have an ordinary name.” 

“I know that,” Jim said quickly, although his stomach went warm with pride. 

“At least you didn’t get landed with something really obscure though,” Seb said cheerfully. “There’s a bloke in my class called Hyperion.”

“That’s a moon. One of Saturn’s,” Jim said easily. He knew all the planets and their moons off by heart, along with most of the stars. 

“Still wouldn’t fancy being called it.” 

Jim laughed a bit. “No, I suppose it might be annoying. You couldn’t shorten it really.” 

Sebastian rested his head lightly on top of Jim’s and watched a few blue rockets explode in the night sky. They were his favourite type of firework. 

“Bed?” he suggested quietly. Jim hummed in thought. 

“No, because I’ll be on my own. Besides, I want to watch the fireworks. We have a good view from here.” 

“If we leave the curtains open you could probably still see them from the top bunk.” 

“I’d still be on my own though.” 

“I’d be in the bed right under you.” 

“That’s not what I want, though,” Jim pointed out. “I liked it better before, when I was in the bed with you.” 

Sebastian had been anticipating something like this. He chewed on his lower lip.

“Can’t happen anymore.” 

“Why not? Are you going off me? Is that it?” 

“Don’t be daft. I’m just… older. Need space and all that.” 

“I could curl up really small,” Jim suggested in his baby voice. 

“No, Jim.” 

“Not even for my birthday?” 

“Listen, you wouldn’t want to sleep in the same bed as me. Just trust me, yeah? I’m not saying that to get rid of you or anything.” 

“Oh,” Jim suddenly realised, nodding his head. “Oh… I see.” 

Sebastian grimaced a bit. “You do?” 

“Since when have you been having them then? I’m assuming that’s why you’re so embarrassed.” 

“Jim, I’m not talking about this with you,” Sebastian mumbled, cheeks bright red. Luckily for the blond, the darkness of the room covered his expression and the colour that had rushed to his face. 

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed just because you’ve started to get wet dreams, ‘Bastian. It’s normal.”

Sebastian felt like his skin was on fire, and he moved away from Jim. Although he had to tug his hand free, because Jim didn’t seem to want to surrender it. 

“I know it’s normal,” he said defensively. “It’s just… I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s private.” 

“We’re both boys here,” Jim pointed out with a shake of his head. 

“Jim.” 

“What about when I need to know things?” 

“Thought you already had the sex talk? You were gonna gouge out my eyes before when I brought it up.”

“I have questions, actually,” Jim said honestly. “And you, being older, and my best friend, should be the person to give me answers.” 

“No.”

“It’s your duty.”

He almost had Sebastian there, because Seb did feel like he had a brotherly sort of duty to help Jim grow up, to be there for him where nobody had been for him. But then he spotted his face in the reflection again, and he noted his tone. No. He was playing with him.

“When you genuinely need answers, I’ll give you them,” he said carefully, sniffing. “But right now you’re just trying to make me embarrassed. It won’t happen to you for a bit yet anyway. So you don’t even have to think about it, alright?” 

“You’re no fun,” Jim commented with a pout. 

“This stuff isn’t fun,” Seb said with a grimace. Sometimes he wished Jim would be serious instead of trying to make everything into a game. This part of puberty was something he wanted to be private, and he could already tell Jim would tease him about it and hold it over his head as blackmail if he needed to. 

“If it isn’t fun then you’re probably doing it wrong,” Jim quipped. 

“Fuck’s sake. We’re not talking about this,” Sebastian grumbled, climbing into his bed with a grunt. 

“When I’m eleven will you talk to me about it?” 

“Not tomorrow, if that’s what you mean,” Sebastian said sternly. “I’m always here to… you know, answer questions and stuff. But not if you’re going to take the piss. And don’t pretend, because I know you well enough to tell when you’re being serious and when you’re not.” 

Jim hummed and finally moved away from the window, sliding off the desk and going to sit on Sebastian’s bed, even though he could see Sebastian’s eyebrows raise in exasperation. 

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” he said solemnly. 

“You’re not,” Sebastian said, looking weary. “But cheers for saying it anyway.” 

“What present have you got me?” 

“It’s a surprise. You’d only complain tomorrow if I gave in and told you now.” 

“You know me too well,” Jim said, drawling his words, trying to sound more grown up than he was. 

“Like the back of my hand,” Seb agreed. 

“Tell me you still love me,” Jim demanded, tilting his head to one side suspiciously. He could feel in his bones that he was losing Sebastian, at least a part of him. As much as it hurt, there was still time to remedy it, and besides, Sebastian wouldn’t ever leave him, not truly. 

“Christ’s sake, Jim, I’m trying to get some sleep,” Seb complained, shifting in his bed. Jim reached out with a sulky expression and pinched Sebastian’s leg through the covers. 

“Fuck! Yes, okay. I still love you. Bloody hell, when did you last cut your fucking nails?” 

“Such foul language,” Jim chastised, smirking as he sat up and then slipped off the bed. “Night, Sebastian. Pleasant dreams.” 

Seb knew there was a double meaning in that one, but he wasn’t going to pay it any attention. He watched Jim’s pale feet on the rungs of the ladder by his head and finally listened to him settle, relaxing as he heard the familiar creaks of the mattress as Jim curled up comfortably, swaddling himself in the covers. 

Outside the fireworks kept on exploding, and Sebastian fell asleep dreaming of cannon fire and war and his own future heroism.


	34. Jim's Eleventh Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim turns eleven, but his birthday doesn't go the way he wants it to.

“I can eat cake for breakfast if I want, doofus. It’s my cake, I can do what I like with it. And I’m not sharing,” Jim informed Verity at breakfast. He was clutching a posh little black notebook in his right hand, his present from Sebastian, and using his left arm to greedily protect his cake from the hungry eyes and prying hands of the other children. 

Sebastian noticed that Chloe looked about ready to reach for a piece anyway. He smacked his fist down on the table and growled, making the drinks nearest to him wobble dangerously. She immediately withdrew, knowing well enough not to enrage Sebastian. 

“Sebastian Moran, I’ve had just about enough of you,” Verity said harshly. “Apologise to Chloe.”

“Don’t,” Jim instructed, raising a challenging eyebrow at Verity. 

“Sebastian, I believe you want to go to your friend Sophie’s house tomorrow night. Unless you start to behave yourself, you won’t be allowed the visit.” 

“Tell her you don’t care,” Jim said instantly, narrowing his eyes at the mention of Sophie. Sebastian went to her house once a week now, and he always seemed surprisingly bright when he came home. It was sickening really, but Jim could do nothing to stop him. 

But Sebastian did care. He’d already had to cancel on Ben and Sophie two weeks ago after he was caught with a stolen tennis ball from school in his bedroom. And he was starting to get good at boxing now, under Ben’s tuition. He’d taught him already how to hold himself, how to move, even shown him video footage of his own fights. A few weeks back Sebastian and Ben had spent an hour watching a proper boxing match on the television, on one of the special channels Seb didn’t have access to at the home. Ben had heated them up some pizza, and even asked Seb questions about the army. It was overwhelmingly pleasant to have someone who approved of his ambition, and he chattered away, completely forgetting in his rush to get his thoughts out, that he didn’t like to open up to people. 

“I only bashed the table,” Sebastian pointed out gruffly, hoping Jim wouldn’t push him to be more disobedient than he had to be. 

“Because Chloe, little miss nasty snitch, tried to steal my cake!” Jim finished for him. “My cake from Dawn. It says ‘Happy Birthday Jim!’ on it, not ‘Happy Birthday everyone, please help yourself to Jim’s birthday treat.’” 

“Apologise to Chloe right now, or I will ring Sophie’s father and cancel your visit myself,” Verity threatened coldly. 

Jim gave a vaguely outraged huff, but Sebastian felt a chill down his spine. 

“No!” he burst out. “Look, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it. I was just… well, it’s Jim’s cake, isn’t it? She hasn’t got the right to go stealing bits.” 

Without any warning Sebastian registered a loud and disorientating thunking noise. A second later the dull explosion of pain on the side of his head let him know he’d just been hit. 

“Jim Moriarty! Birthday or not, we do not hit!” Verity thundered, reaching out and taking his birthday cake away from him. “Get down from the table and put on your uniform! You shouldn’t be sitting there in Sebastian’s shirt anyway.” 

Sebastian was rubbing his head as Jim slipped away with a scowl of betrayal. He was brandishing his notebook, which Seb realised must have been what he’d used to hit him. There were a few drops of blood on his hand when he took it away from the side of his head. Not enough to mean he was injured seriously, but enough to know that Jim had done the whole thing deliberately. Keeping the hand to his head to stop Verity from seeing the evidence of Jim’s spite and punishing him accordingly, Sebastian also got down from the table and jogged out of the room and up the stairs after Jim. 

Jim was sitting outside of the bathroom door, legs crossed as usual, scribbling something in his notebook with the expensive pen Sebastian had also bought him so he could write out his equations professionally and have somewhere to keep them all where they wouldn’t get lost or separated. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t use a glass,” Jim muttered, not looking up, knowing from the footfalls on the stairs that Sebastian was the person casting the shadow over him. 

“What the hell, Jim?” Seb asked, holding out his hands with confusion. “What did I do this time?” 

“You irritated me, which is reason enough,” Jim informed him, tucking his pen behind his ear and closing his notebook with a satisfying soft noise as the thick pages pressed together beneath the leather cover. 

“Can we not do this on your birthday? This is supposed to be a good day, right?”

“You fucked up.”

Jim didn’t usually swear, so Sebastian knew this was serious. “How?”

“You know how, and if you don’t, then I’m not going to tell you, you insufferable imbecile. I should feed you to the dogs.” 

Sebastian scoffed, offended by Jim’s tone. “We don’t have any fucking dogs.” 

“Do you think there aren’t dogs around here somewhere I could chop you up and feed you to? Nobody would ever find your body that way. Not unless they bothered to look for bones, which they wouldn’t, because nobody truly cares about you but me, and I’d have done it.” 

“Love you too, bastard,” he said, hurt, but trying to keep the illusion of carelessness going. 

That comment, which should have brightened Jim considerably, only made him narrow his eyes with rage. 

“Are you mocking me?” 

“Did you just threaten to feed me to hypothetical pets?” Sebastian fired back. 

“Oh, very witty. Hilarious. How clever,” Jim said spitefully. “You know, I really should kill you soon. Before your head becomes so inflated you can’t walk through doorways anymore.” 

Sebastian blinked with confusion. He wasn’t cocky, not really. Deep down he was sensitive and took insults to heart. Jim knew that. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why Jim was so furious with him. Okay, so he’d given in to Verity, but this wasn’t the first time. Even Jim conceded that occasionally you had to pretend to behave in order to get what you wanted.

“Do you not like your present, is that it? Should I get you something else?” 

“I’ll tell you exactly what you can get me,” Jim said. 

“Right. Go on then.” 

“A best friend with a backbone. You’re a snivelling idiot, and you’re bleeding. You’re weak. Weak and pathetic.” 

Sebastian traced his tongue over his teeth and nodded his head, fingers twitching as he decided what to do. Jim was serious, and that wounded him. He swallowed and wiped the back of his hand over the cut on the side of his head. 

“Well, I’m going to pack my school stuff. I’ve got homework to hand in. Should probably have done it last night,” Sebastian mumbled, pointing needlessly at their bedroom and starting to back away. 

“Perhaps if you spent less time at that bitch’s house, you might have time for your homework,” Jim hissed. 

Sebastian stopped in his tracks, frowning. “What the fuck did you just call Sophie?” 

“Oh, so you realised I was talking about Sophie.” 

“Jim,” Sebastian growled, voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You ever call her that again and I’ll fucking make you wish you hadn’t.” 

“Terrifying,” Jim said, rolling his eyes. “You need to work on your intimidation skills. You’re getting rusty.” 

“You don’t use that word around me,” Sebastian continued, pointing his finger at Jim. “You don’t ever call her that.” 

“What a hero you are,” Jim retorted, getting to his feet now and approaching Sebastian, so his pointed finger poked him in the chest. “Defending her like that. It’s sweet of you.” 

Sebastian pulled his hand away from Jim and ran it through his blond hair, attempting to keep himself calm, remembering the anger management techniques they’d taught him in his meeting last week.

“Nobody talks shit about my mates. That means you, Sophie and Newt. Got it?” 

“No, I haven’t got it,” Jim argued. “And you can’t make me do anything. No one can. I’ll call her a bitch all I want. Because that’s what she is.” 

Sebastian took a deep sniff of air and then shook his head, trying his hand at being spiteful as well. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you. Might want to tone it down. You’ll only embarrass yourself otherwise.” 

Jim’s cheeks turned instantly pink and he blinked quickly, needing to stop the creeping horror threatening to overtake him. Sebastian was laughing at him. Sebastian was talking back. He was losing him. Losing his Sebastian. All to some stupid girl. 

“Take it back!” Jim screeched, eyes wide and wild. 

“You take it the fuck back.” 

“I hate you!” Jim shrieked, once again brandishing his notepad. Sebastian was a second too slow to anticipate the corner of the leather book colliding with one of his eyes. The pain was immediate this time, and he backed away, growling. His left eye felt like it was on fire. Sebastian thought he could almost feel the swelling. 

“You’ve ruined my birthday and I won’t ever forgive you!” Jim shouted, watching Sebastian clutching at his eye with pride. Seb might have been physically stronger than him, but Jim still had the ability to make him wince with pain. Sometimes Sebastian needed reminding who was boss, and Jim felt no remorse for his most recent lesson. It was for the best. 

He could practically see the beautiful violence blossoming under Sebastian’s skin, in his every movement, but he wasn’t scared. Predictably, Sebastian howled and then started to punch and kick the wall, slamming his fists against the surface with pure rage. 

Hearing the voices from downstairs and the sound of footsteps, Jim scurried past his best friend, heading for the bedroom, wanting to free himself of any blame in this. Sebastian wouldn’t tell on him, and with any luck, this outburst would mean Seb got banned from seeing Sophie for weeks. It was a shame, he thought to himself, as he put on a pair of Sebastian’s socks, that Seb had forced him to do such a thing. He’d learn eventually, though. Jim would make sure of it.


	35. A Job Opportunity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets given a new opportunity by the gang at his school.

“No,” Jim explained, using his pencil to circle the number he’d scrawled on a piece of spare paper. ‘You’ll want more units than that. Also, if you want to make more profit, I’d say increase the price by ten or so pounds per delivery. It’s very simple. The service you provide is too valuable for them to quibble over ten measly pounds, but of course the money will all mount up for you. Also, the more you charge, the higher people will assume the quality of your organisation is.” 

Paul had swallowed his pride as leader of the group and was now trying to soak up Jim’s unexpected but undeniably useful expertise like a sponge. Problem was, he just couldn’t seem to keep up with the eleven year old. He nodded as if he could, though, and played along. It wouldn’t do for the main man to be second best to some kid.

“You see why you aren’t getting the planned turnover?” Jim asked, breaking the silence as he scribbled down a few more numbers in a spidery scrawl. 

Paul crossed his arms over his chest trying to keep his eyes on the equations Jim was writing furiously. “You’re sure this will work?” 

Jim rolled his eyes but then nodded. He could afford to be a bit cheeky now he had made himself indispensible, but he didn’t want to be a threat to Paul. Not yet anyway. If things went, as Seb would describe it, ‘tits up’, Jim wouldn’t be the one being carted off to a cell. Oh no. He’d just be a poor little boy swept up in the excitement by all the big boys and girls. The care home child who so longed to be accepted that he did whatever he was told. He imagined he’d be let off the hook easily. It was a perfect back up plan. 

“Someone is also taking a small amount of the profits for themselves,” Jim informed him. Carrie looked mutinous. 

“Who is it, James?” she asked, using her friendly voice. She only ever put it on when she wanted Jim to do something for her benefit. The rest of the time she was relatively cold. 

Jim considered this for a moment. The real culprit was Scarlet. It was obvious to him, so obvious that he wondered why Paul and Carrie couldn’t see it. But Jim didn’t want to get rid of Scarlet. Despite being untrustworthy, she was fairly stupid, easy enough to control if necessary. Peter on the other hand, now he was trouble. He still leered at Jim sometimes and said things that made him blush when nobody was listening. Jim smirked to himself for the smallest moment and then raised his head gravely. 

“Peter,” he almost whispered. “But please don’t tell him I told you. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble…” 

Carrie patted him on the back in a sisterly manner. Paul nodded. 

The next day Peter was gone. Apparently his parents had moved him to another school. Jim wondered what Paul had decided to have done to him, wondered if Peter had broken down under stress and fear, begging his parents to move him, or if he was so battered he’d had no choice but to move away. 

It didn’t matter, of course, because Peter was dispensable and idiotic. In fact, Jim hoped Paul had hurt him badly. It was what he deserved. It was what they all deserved. 

While Jim sucked on the end of his pencil, the next day, thinking hard, Paul and Carrie exchanged a sly look. Carrie seemed about ready to burst into giggles, and Paul smirked knowingly. Jim put it down to them having got rid of Peter.

“Eh, Jim?” he said, patting the boy on the back and ruining the equation he was writing. “How do you fancy making a bit more cash?” 

Jim nodded immediately, his attention completely focused on Paul’s voice. He knew the area of London in which he wanted to live, and it was expensive, even just to rent. Plus, Sebastian had seen a new cricket set he wanted when they went on their walk the other day, and Jim was considering purchasing it for him as a surprise treat. Yes, Sebastian was being disobedient, but he needed to give him an incentive to behave. He could also use the gift to make Sebastian feel guilty for being such an utterly useless fool. 

“Good boy,” Paul praised, and Jim tried not to wince. He didn’t enjoy being patronised, but he had to keep in character. Helpful. Clever, unknowing and harmless. Eager to please. 

Carrie moved to Jim’s other side and patted his shoulder. Jim felt surrounded, but he fought away the feeling of sudden claustrophobia. Sebastian would never have crowded in on him like that. He would have held on to him gently. 

“We’ve got a client we’d like you to meet,” Carrie explained, her voice deceptively soft. She was a good actress as well, although not as talented as Jim at disguising her feelings. Occasionally she slipped up, broke character. 

Jim frowned. “Why would they want to meet me?” 

Paul chuckled moving in front of Jim to sit on the desk. Jim blinked at him curiously. 

“Just trust us on this. You’ll make a mint. Now are you in, or are you out?”

Jim hissed. He wasn’t one of the stupid members of the group who could be manipulated. 

“I’ll need information before I decide,” he said quietly, his voice firm although unthreatening. 

“One hundred pounds on the spot,” Paul revealed. “No questions asked. One time deal, unless you want to continue. Consider it a trial run.” 

One hundred pounds for one job. That was massive, and Jim couldn’t afford to say no. Still, it wouldn’t do to look too keen. With business you had to be sneaky. 

“Two hundred and I’ll consider it,” Jim said, nose high in the air. 

Carrie looked angry, although Paul laughed again, ruffling Jim’s hair. 

“Top man. I’ll sort it out. You just focus on doing as you’re told.” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM 

“Will you stop writing for one minute and listen to me?” Jim demanded, throwing a pillow at Sebastian’s back. 

“It’s homework. Give me two secs.” 

“You’ve been working for hours,” Jim complained, nibbling on his fingernails anxiously. Some instinct was giving him danger signals, but he wasn’t quite sure why. 

“Got exams.” 

“Funny how that didn’t bother you when you stayed late at Sophie’s house.” 

“Don’t start,” Sebastian said warningly, scribbling out a sentence. 

“I need your opinion.” 

“Yeah, and you can have it when I’ve finished this paragraph. First essay draft’s in tomorrow.” 

Jim frowned and decided to start explaining. 

“I want to make money, but…”

“But?”

“Stop writing,” Jim snapped, considering jumping on Sebastian from behind and slapping some sense into his moronic head. 

“Give me a minute.” 

“I told you to stop.”

Sebastian let out a chuckle. 

“Who died and made you king?” 

“I don’t know, but you’ll be next if you don’t watch your tongue,” Jim hissed. 

Sebastian still didn’t turn and remained hunched over the desk that was now getting too small for him. Jim wanted to appreciate those broadening shoulders, the way Seb’s t-shirt was straining slightly at the back, but he couldn’t because Sebastian was being a stupid idiot and ruining everything. 

“I have to finish this,” he told Jim softly. Sebastian was under a lot of stress at school now. Being predicted to get top grades in most subjects, there was a lot of pressure on him to perform. And Sebastian couldn’t fail. He had to prove himself in every way possible. 

“And I have to talk to you.” 

“In a second. Christ…”

Jim gave up and got to his feet, dramatically flouncing past Sebastian and then returning again with a sudden idea, pausing right behind Seb’s back. 

“I’m sorry, ‘Bastian,” he said gravely, and before Sebastian had a chance to register what was going on, he’d sunk his sharp teeth into Sebastian’s back, biting down hard enough to make a mark, even through Sebastian’s shirt. 

Sebastian swore loudly, spun around in his chair, and then grabbed Jim by the front of his shirt, hauling him up so only the tips of his toes were on the bedroom floor. 

“Are you a fucking animal?” 

“I had to make you pay attention,” Jim said, with the same rush of exhilaration he always got when Sebastian got scary. He had the unwise urge to provoke him further, but the thought was banished by the look on Sebastian’s face. 

“You don’t ever bite me again, got it?” 

“I can’t promise that. I might want to bite you. You might want me to.” Jim gave a tiny grin, eyes bright. 

Sebastian grimaced and then shoved Jim away from him with a disgusted curl of his lips, leaving him to fall on the carpet. 

Well, it was decided then. Jim was going to take the job. He was going to do it just to spite Sebastian. Getting up and dusting himself off, Jim gave Sebastian a glare, a long, lingering one. 

“Thought you loved me,” Jim said coldly, tilting his head to one side. 

“Stop it. Don’t fucking do this. Not right now.” 

“You’ll regret this,” Jim informed Sebastian coolly. “You’ll regret it. I promise you that.”


	36. The Two Hundred Pound Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is sent to carry out a mystery job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy implication of abuse, so please do not read if this will trigger you. Nothing is described in detail.

Drugs were nothing new to Jim. The kids at his school took them regularly to soothe their racing brains. It was difficult being so bright and distractions didn’t always want to present themselves. Until this point Jim hadn’t used any drugs himself, mostly because of the way Sebastian would react to it, and also because his anti-depressants and meds for psychosis might combine with the substances to make him ill. 

Still, that didn’t mean he disapproved, not exactly. After all, what was the difference between legal and illegal drugs anyway? One people told you you could take, in fact, they forced you to swallow, and the other you got to choose to take or not yourself. And if there was one thing guaranteed to make Jim do something, it was being told he wasn’t allowed to. 

This was just an average drugs run, according to Paul and Carrie. Jim knew they were lying. For one, there was no reason why an eleven year old should have to do the handover. It was a waste of resources seeing as he couldn’t even get to the destination himself and had to be driven by an older member of the group. Then there was the fact Jim had been selected especially because he would please the client. It’s because you’re a genius, Jim told himself as he sat in the back of David’s car, knees drawn up to his chest. Your reputation is probably spreading. It’s power. Think yourself lucky you’ve been selected. It’s all a massive ladder and the more rungs you creep up, the faster you’ll get to the top. 

He found his mind wandering to Sebastian for most of the journey. Seb wouldn’t be happy with this arrangement at all, in fact he would probably have clobbered David who was sitting in the front and demanded answers. He got terribly protective like that. But Sebastian wasn’t paying enough attention to Jim right now to suspect that anything was wrong, and Jim certainly wasn’t going to make himself look weak by giving him hints. Sebastian might have Sophie, but Jim had this. He had his job. He had his money. He had his name. 

The area they had entered was grubby and dark, despite it being the afternoon. People around kept their heads down, not wanting to become embroiled with something shady, and the ones that dared glance about either looked stupid, or too tough to care. 

David parked the car around the back of a semi-detached house with rubbish bags piled up ominously outside. The back garden was covered in dog mess, which made Jim’s limbs stiffen. Not only because it was disgusting, but because he was afraid of dogs, especially the type he imagined would be kept around here. But David offered no comfort, and Jim was left to slip out of the car by himself. He didn’t ask questions and he didn’t look back, that would be weakness after all. He had to prove he could take care of himself, even if his insides were twisting and his fingers felt clammy with sweat. 

He wondered briefly if he should knock on the back door, but the problem was solved for him by a shadow in the distorted glass, tall and looming. Jim was being watched then, which he should have anticipated. A moment later there was a metallic clinking and jangling noise, which meant the door was being unlocked. When the door opened, the person inside kept to the shadow of the kitchen, leaving the smallest space for Jim to slip through with his briefcase in hand.

“Hurry up, lad,” came a deep voice beside him, and Jim, although he resented being ordered around, felt inclined to obey for his own safety. The door was locked behind him, and Jim couldn’t find the courage to complain, just stood awkwardly clutching at his briefcase and looking around the sparse kitchen. 

“I have the things you asked for,” Jim said, clearing his throat and wishing his voice didn’t sound so small in the empty kitchen. “But I was informed I have to collect payment first.” 

The man laughed, the noise scratchy and rough. Jim’s spine seized up as though attacked by magnetic spiders. 

“Turn around then, kid. Let me get a look at you. Need to see the wares,” the man said, and Jim blinked, uncomprehending. Turning, he held out the briefcase in front of him, not daring to look the man in the face yet. He was frightened he might see an old man, and that he’d have to accept he’d done something monstrously stupid. 

“I should actually probably go,” Jim faltered, as he felt the briefcase being yanked out of his hands. “I have… other deliveries to make, and we don’t like to let our customers down.” 

“Hold your horses,” the man ordered with another chuckle. “I’ll need to see the stuff first. Check it’s high quality. I’ve paid a fair amount for this, been waiting on it for days.” 

It was the way the man was speaking that made Jim’s shoulders relax hopefully. He sounded a bit like Sebastian, grown up Sebastian. Perhaps a bit rougher and scarier, not quite as gentle or thoughtful, but still, it drove Jim to blink into the shadows and finally catch a glimpse of the client. 

“I can hardly see you,” Jim commented cheekily, growing in confidence now that he could see greasy blond hair that was just a touch too long. Sebastian’s might have been like that if he grew it out, although Jim would never let it get dirty. 

“Then step into my lair,” the man said roughly. “First door on the right. You don’t touch a thing, understood?” 

Jim frowned but nodded. The lighting was better as he walked down the hall, the sound of the man’s heavy footsteps behind him. He let himself into the room, which was small and lit with odd supermarket style lighting. There was a battered leather sofa in one corner, and a table covered in syringes and wrappers. An ash tray sat almost overflowing on the small table, and beer cans littered the floor. His eyes caught on a stack of magazines in the corner, and he stuck his tongue out in disgust as he spotted ladies on the front, almost naked, shoving out their breasts, eyes large but dead. Jim couldn’t understand why people liked that sort of thing in the first place. You could see bodies in anatomy books if you wanted to learn, and what was the point of making the women stand weirdly and pout? Men didn’t have to do it, so why should they? Besides, Jim thought he’d rather see a man on the cover of one of those strange magazines than a woman, but that was a train of thought to save up for another day. 

Spinning around as the door clicked shut behind him, Jim finally got a proper look at his client. Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian, Jim thought as he gazed up at the lanky man, with his rude tattoos and silver chain around his neck. Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian, but with green eyes instead of blue, and a less definied jaw. Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian, with larger hands and thicker fingers with nails that were trimmed instead of bitten right down.

He was safe because this was just Sebastian. Another version. It had to be. He had to be. Because Jim Moriarty would never willingly walk into danger like this. Sebastian wouldn’t let him do it. He wouldn’t ever feel a rush of sudden and horrendous regret that made his limbs go stiff. He was in control and he could control the person in front of him, even if he was big and scary. 

Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian…

Only Sebastian wouldn’t leer like that. And he wouldn’t have such an oddly skinny body. And he especially wouldn’t have locked the door on him…

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim waited in the bedroom for Sebastian that night, sitting on his bed, hugging Sebastian’s pillow and sniffing at it, trying to imagine that Sebastian was there. But he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t be home for ages. He had swimming and then boxing, and he tended to only get back in time for dinner. Even after that he was focused on homework and practicing. Army exercises, revision for tests, using his new punch bag that sat in the corner of the room. 

When Sebastian finally entered the bedroom he was wearing a towel around his waist and looking stressed. Clearly he’d just washed the chlorine from the pool off his body, and he was behind schedule. Sebastian liked to have plans and order in his life, and he gave a certain unique grimace when he had fallen behind. 

“Sebby,” Jim began, making Sebastian jump. The blond pulled his towel tighter around himself and sent Jim a glare. 

“What have I told you about letting me know when you’re in here? I’ve just been in the fucking shower. It isn’t right. It isn’t fucking decent.” 

“I’m not decent,” Jim responded, his heart sinking because this was clearly a bad time and there was no real way of fixing it. “And it’s my room too. Besides, I have more important things to do than to oggle you. I have things I need to-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sebastian practically spat. He was so on edge these days, and the slightest comment would make his face cave in. 

“Drowned rat.” 

“Turn around, I need to change. And you can get the hell off my bed while you’re at it.” 

Jim blinked slowly and then nodded, slipping off the mattress. As he did so, something heavy fell out of the pillow he’d been clutching. It was a notebook, but not one Jim had seen before.

Sebastian noticed at the same time as Jim and got a sudden crazed glint to his blue eyes as he lunged, ripping the book out of Jim’s curious hands. Jim would have held on, but he had to make sure his sleeves stayed over his wrists. 

“Did you read it?!” Sebastian thundered, really yelling this time in a way that made Jim want to cry. 

“N-no!” Jim exclaimed, stepping away hurriedly, feeling like his world was spinning away, like the carpet was being dragged out from under his feet while he was still trying to stand on it. 

“Leave my stuff alone! You don’t ever touch it, you hear me?” Sebastian shouted, baring his teeth. “You ever heard of boundaries?!” 

“I’ve heard of them,” Jim attempted to quip, although his lower lip was trembling. “It was only a notepad though. I didn’t know it was there. I was only…” 

“Only what? What the fuck were you doing with my pillow?” 

“Holding it,” Jim said lamely, knowing that this defence, although true, would not wash with Sebastian, not when he was like this. Seb looked terrified, and that in turn terrified Jim. 

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, chest heaving. Jim could see he was losing composure. But what right had he to do that when Jim needed him? Jim needed his only strong person, but Sebastian wasn’t acting strong, he was acting paranoid, like he did whenever he used to think people were whispering about him. 

“Calm down,” Jim commanded, backing up against the wall. 

“Buck the fuck up!” Sebastian roared. “Calm down?! How the fuck can I calm down when you’ve just read that I-“ 

“Sebastian Moran get to the cooler this instant!” Verity shouted from outside in the corridor where quite a crowd had gathered to listen to Sebastian yelling at Jim. It was so rare for it to happen that everyone wanted to see if finally, for the first time, Seb would snap and beat him up the way he tended to do with others that angered him. 

Jim stared, blinking slowly, wishing he could just shrink out of existence. 

“If you don’t come out of there and leave poor Jim alone, you’ll be put away, young man!” Verity continued, sounding panicked herself. “I’ve had enough of this violence! You’ll be in prison by the time you’re twenty!” 

“No he won’t!” piped up a loyal voice. Jim tilted his head with outrage that someone had got involved. It was Harry, who still tried to impersonate Sebastian and wanted to follow in his footsteps. 

“You should leave,” Jim said quietly, hating to agree with anything Verity said, but fearing for his safety. “Leave, ‘Bastian. Do what she says.” 

Sebastian’s eyes widened, looking down at himself and realising the way he was standing, leaning forwards, fists clenched. 

“Jim… I was never gonna… Jim…” he breathed. “I wouldn’t have… I was only… you read my-“ 

“Three! Two! One!” 

Verity burst into the room, Frank standing beside her. Jim slipped away into the corner, not wanting to watch as Frank manhandled Sebastian downstairs and frogmarched him past the nosy crowd. 

When the commotion was finished and most of the children had disappeared back to their rooms, Verity still wouldn’t leave. She was smiling at Jim, in a way that seemed alien. When had she ever smiled before? What was the matter?

“Are you okay?” she asked gently, and Jim stood and nodded mutely, confused and distrustful. 

“That boy will come to no good,” Verity said, shaking her head with disapproval. 

“For your information,” Jim defended. “He’s the best in his class at-“ 

“Whatever is that on your arms Jim?” Verity interrupted, looking suspicious, but also oddly hungry as though she had found the evidence she was waiting for. 

Horrified, Jim looked down at his arms, where his long sleeve shirt had accidentally rolled up at the ends to reveal two bruised wrists. 

“N-nothing.” 

“I think you need to come with me, Jim,” Verity said sternly, but with the air of a woman in control of the situation, as though this was business and she thought she was winning. 

“No,” Jim insisted. “No, you leave me alone.” 

Verity had already seen enough, though. New bruises, rings of sore, red skin on Jim’s pale and skinny wrists. Who knew which other wounds he had hidden beneath his clothing? Who knew what other evil Sebastian Moran had done, and had been doing for all this time? Such a violent boy should never have been allowed to stay with a child like Jim. It was only ever going to end in tears. Was it any wonder that a boy who had suffered such violence at an early age had turned out to be exactly the same sort of bully as his father before him?

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you a few questions, James,” Verity said in her softest voice. “Please come with me. I think we might need to contact your care coordinator.” 

“Why? Why would you contact her?” Jim demanded, looking panicked. “You don’t need to do that!” 

“I think you know that I do,” Verity soothed, eyes insincere and sickeningly triumphant. “This can’t continue. I’m here to help you.” 

Jim couldn’t reason with her. Even if he had been emotionally strong enough and not crumbling from the inside, he wouldn’t have been able to make her see sense. Because Verity was stupid and she saw what she wanted to. If only she’d looked a little harder she would have realised the marks were made by the hands of a fully grown adult, that there were scratches on his skin from nails, and Sebastian bit his away. She would have noticed that Sebastian had been away for most of the evening and marks didn’t happen that quickly, and that Sebastian was almost in tears, something that never happened when he detached after attacking someone. 

But Verity was stupid, so Jim just screamed and screamed until he too had to be carried away.


	37. Fuel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian finds out Jim has been hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language warning.

“How did Jim get the bruises on his arms?” 

Sebastian paused, his blue eyes sharpening, lips parting with grim horror, teeth showing through the gap. 

“Bruises? What are you on about? Why’s he got bruises? When are they from? Where on his arms?” 

Dawn tilted her head to one side and stared at Verity, her own blue eyes displaying a rare anger. Clearly Sebastian didn’t have a clue what he was even in trouble for and he seemed a very unlikely culprit indeed. Sebastian looked genuinely shocked and outraged. Getting visibly more and more dangerous by the second. But there were still the stages of fury and emotion to break through before the wave crashed down and Sebastian hit his real red area.

“There’s no point in pretending now, we know everything already,” Verity said smugly, raising her eyebrows with a condescending expression. Sebastian was one of her biggest troublemakers, and it was a relief to the head care worker to finally catch him red handed. She was convinced she’d been right all along, that Sebastian was dangerous, and would be more suited to somewhere more secure where there was the possibility of sedating him to prevent injury to others. 

“Then fucking tell me! I want to know which fucking cunt did it!” Sebastian shouted, punching the bean bag he was seated on repetitively. 

“Language, Sebastian!” 

Seb stood up, grabbed the bean bag, tore it apart with his bare hands, splitting it at the seams, making tiny polystyrene balls rain down on the ground, before chucking it forcibly into the wall, further showering the insides.

“The vandalisation of property will have to go on your report,” Verity said calmly. “Let’s not add it to your list of wrongdoing, young man, because I can safely say you’re in enough trouble already.” 

“Who the fuck hurt Jim?!” Seb thundered, ignoring the threat and beginning to pace, needing to kick something solid that wouldn’t give a pathetic slumping noise and then dent into the area of impact. 

“You did.” 

Seb, who was now wearing a pair of jeans which had been handed in by Frank, when Verity thought it was inappropriate for the interview to take place with the boy just wearing a towel, flashed his teeth again and moved into Verity’s personal space, his body language displaying a very real threat.

“I fucking did not! Are you a fucking idiot, you stupid piece of shit?!”

“Sebastian Moran!” 

Sebastian was too distressed to register the concern on Dawn’s face, perhaps even slight fear. If his brain hadn’t been fixed on Jim, that might have shamed him into lowering his fists. 

“As if I’d ever hurt a hair on his head! You’re a stupid fucking cunt and if you don’t let me see him I swear to God I’ll break out and I’ll fucking stab anyone who gets in my way!” 

“I can believe it,” Verity scoffed. “Am I going to have to call someone in to restrain you? Are you threatening the lives of the children in this home?” 

“I’ll threaten anyone who tries to stop me from protecting Jim!” Sebastian shouted. “That includes you, you stupid cow! You got a problem with that? I’ll fucking end you!” 

Dawn placed a hand on Verity’s arm. She knew Sebastian exceptionally well, and while his behaviour was not acceptable, there was no sense in further baiting him. It would only provoke more danger, more violence, and more anger. Sebastian wouldn’t, to Dawn’s knowledge, start attacking innocent people, but he would definitely go on a vigilante form of crusade in defence of his adored best friend. The first thing that had to be understood about Sebastian was that he was loyal, painfully so. Without grasping that fact, there was no hope of reasoning with him or understanding him. 

“We’re going to need Frank,” Verity muttered, knowing that Sebastian would hate that. He kicked up such a fuss whenever the man was involved, because, to her mind, Sebastian was a coward who only attacked the weak, like poor Jim. It had to be that, she thought. The idea that a boy who had suffered violence at the hands of a man who had considerable control over his life once might be afraid of the same thing happening again did not even occur to her. After all, Sebastian could look after himself, and had done more than his fair share of damage to others. 

“Dawn, where’s Jim?” Sebastian appealed to the blonde. “Dawn, where is he? Who hurt him? Dawn? Was it someone here? What did they do?” 

“Don’t answer him,” Verity decreed strictly when Dawn seemed to open her mouth, ready to respond. The head care worker turned her attention back to Sebastian. “Violence and threats won’t get you anywhere. And you certainly won’t be going anywhere near that poor boy. He needs medical attention, not another round with you and your temper.” 

Sebastian let out a long roar and then collapsed on the floor, the polystyrene beads connecting uncomfortably with his bare feet. There was no winning. Not with Verity. Think, Sebastian, he told himself. Mission statement. Objective. Do it step by step. First target, calm down. Second target, get the hell out of the cooler and find Jim. Third target, get the facts. Fourth target, end the fucking wanker that had dared to touch Jim. Make them pay by any means necessary, no matter the cost or the consequences.

“I’ll be good,” Sebastian promised, running his hands through his blond hair, which was still damp from his shower, comforted by his own plan of action. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good. Lemme see him?” 

“So you admit you were bad?” Verity said, which caused Dawn to screw up her features with distaste. 

“He needs to calm down,” Dawn insisted. “Look at him. The interview should happen after. Innocent until proven guilty.” 

“I’ll make the decisions here, thank you, Miss Young,” Verity hissed, fed up of her authority being undermined by a woman with little to no qualifications. The two adults exchanged a hateful glare, but Sebastian’s mind was whirring. This was serious. This wasn’t just a simple punch. It couldn’t have been.

“Medical attention,” Sebastian pointed out. “You said medical attention. Why? Why’s he need medical attention?”

“He’s been injured,” Verity said vaguely. “By a certain thug.” 

“Yeah, a certain thug that ain’t me!” Sebastian roared. 

“Isn’t. That isn’t you,” Verity corrected. 

“I’d sooner slit my own throat than beat him up!” Sebastian exclaimed, opening his palms to show honesty, trying to get Verity to understand and to let him out. Jim needed him. Jim needed him and it was his duty to get himself out of this and be there. “He’s just a kid!” 

“A vulnerable child, yes,” Verity agreed. “And he’s been in the company of a much bigger, much stronger, much more manipulative boy…”

“Manipulative my fucking arse! How am I manipulative? You’re just making stuff up!” 

“I think we all need to calm down,” Dawn suggested quickly, holding out her hands as a barrier between Verity and Sebastian. She knew from her courses in child psychology that boys with anger problems tended to disengage more quickly when a physical line separated them from the target of their fury. “We won’t get anywhere like this.” 

“I think you need to learn your place in this establishment,” Verity snapped back, glaring at Dawn and ignoring the boy who looked about ready to punch her in the face. “Can you not see what’s in front of your own eyes? This isn’t an innocent child, he’s a teenager who needs to be held responsible for his actions!” 

“What actions?! Someone tell me!” Sebastian yelled, needing someone to listen to him for once in his life. Verity was right that he wasn’t an innocent kid, and he needed facts. Jim was hurt somewhere in the building and he needed to get to him. 

Verity stood up, fixing her thin necklace and motioning that Dawn should join her. Clearly Dawn was in trouble, but Sebastian couldn’t care less right now. Were they just going to leave him here? What was going to happen to Jim?

“Dawn!” Sebastian shouted desperately. “What did they do to him?!” 

“Miss Young, this way, please,” Verity said sternly, giving Sebastian a cold and accusatory glance as she closed and locked the door behind them. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The newest care coordinator was called Danni and had cropped hair that made her look a bit like an elf, in Jim’s opinion. She seemed cleverer than Monica had been, which was good, although he didn’t appreciate the sympathetic looks she kept shooting him. There was nothing worse than false kindness, Jim thought furiously. She wouldn’t care about him the moment she left the building, wouldn’t even look at his notes until she had to type up her report. Jim decided to hate her on principle. Danni was prying, and Jim didn’t like people prying into his business. 

“We haven’t met before, Jim,” she told him in a voice that didn’t suit her. It was quite deep for a woman with such a childish face. “But I’m Danni and I’m here to help you. Now please don’t worry, this isn’t an interrogation or anything like that, I’m simply here for you to talk to so we can get to the bottom of things. How do you feel about that?”

They always ended with questions, these mental health workers. They thought it made them sound kind and accepting, but it came off as forced and Jim couldn’t help but feel like he was being talked down to. 

“I have things to tell you,” Jim began, needing to cut through all this professional rubbish. Sebastian could be heard yelling down the hall, and although the actual words were muted, that growl was unmistakable. 

“Please go ahead. I’m here to listen,” Danni said sweetly, pausing in a play of complete attention. 

“First of all, Sebastian didn’t do it,” he told her firmly.

“I see, and Sebastian is your friend?” 

“He’s the one yelling in the other room.” 

“He’s making quite a lot of noise,” Danni commented with a smile. “Is he usually like that?” 

“They’ve taken him away and put him in quarantine,” Jim informed her, rolling his eyes. “So obviously he’s going to be angry. They always blame him for things that he hasn’t done.” 

“And does that make you angry?” 

“Very,” Jim said quietly, widening his eyes. “In fact, sometimes the injustice of it makes me want to hurt myself. You would think the authority figures should be impartial in a place like this, but they’re very cruel to Sebastian. And Frank pushes poor Sebastian around.” 

Danni’s eyes narrowed and she clicked her pen, getting ready to write something down. 

“What do you mean by that, Jim?” she asked kindly. “Would you please explain that in a bit more detail for me? Just to give me a picture of what goes on?” 

Jim nodded. It was easier for him to focus on making life difficult for Frank and Verity than to have to think about his bruises and the day he’d had. He didn’t want to have to talk about that. Not even to Sebastian. Every time his brain strayed to dangerous places, he forced himself to focus on how much he hated Verity and hated Frank and how he could use this to hurt them.

“Well, Sebastian got beaten up by his father when he was little, and even though they know about it, sometimes Frank grabs Sebastian and pushes him around. It’s very upsetting to the littler children like myself.” 

Danni frowned but showed she was still paying attention. “You spoke a little about what happened to Sebastian. Does he tend to get violent often? Do you think it might be because of what happened to him?” 

Jim could see the trap he was being led into and he wasn’t going to fall for it. He wasn’t an idiot. “Sebastian has never hurt me,” he said very clearly, so his words couldn’t be changed or warped for the purposes of ‘evidence.’ “And he never will.” 

Danni wrote something in her notepad and her bangles jingled as she did so. The noise put Jim on edge, sending an unpleasant shiver through his teeth. It reminded him of the silver chain around the man’s neck and the way it had made a noise each time he moved, over and over again…

“Now, this might be uncomfortable, but please remember I’m here to help you and I’m on your side,” Danni said gently. “You have bruising on your arms, torso and hips. Could you tell me about how those marks came to be?” 

“I can’t tell you who did it,” Jim said carefully, looking around the room as he constructed his response. “But I can tell you that it wasn’t Sebastian, and that I’m scared they’ll use this as an excuse to blame him and hurt him like they always do. Will you promise me they won’t do that? Please?” 

Begging made him feel sick, especially on today of all days when he had pleaded for a full ten minutes already, but Jim needed to free Sebastian of any potential blame, and that meant manipulation. 

“If you tell me who did it, then we can count Sebastian out,” Danni said, nodding her head encouragingly. 

“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive,” Jim countered swiftly. “You can count Sebastian out without knowing who actually did it.” 

“How can I do that?” 

“Take a look at his fingernails,” Jim said, rolling his eyes at the stupidity of the adults he was forced to associate with. “Sebastian bites his nails, probably because he gets nervous about being manhandled by nasty Frank, and I have nail marks on my wrists, look.” Jim showed Danni one of his bruised wrists and then pulled his arm back protectively. 

“Don’t you want to see whoever did that to you facing the consequences of their actions?” Danni asked, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. 

“That’s a very unprofessional and leading question,” Jim pointed out. “You’re here to help my emotional wellbeing, not to pressure me into giving you information.” 

Danni blushed pink and nodded her head immediately. “Of course, I apologise for making you feel uncomfortable, Jim. I just wish I could help more children like you.” 

“You can help me by stopping them from hurting Sebastian,” Jim said in a quiet voice, determined to get some benefit out of this meeting. “I think Verity likes it when he gets hurt, so I’m afraid to say anything to her, because what if she hurts me?’

“I assure you I won’t let that happen,” Danni promised. “In fact, I think I might need to do a little investigating into the conditions here.” 

Jim nodded his head. “Thank you, Danni. I like you. You’re nice to me. The first adult that ever has been nice to me except from Dawn,” Jim whispered, laying the act on thick. Adults loved to play at being heroes, and he could see Danni catching the idea and embracing it.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow for another meeting,” Danni told Jim kindly. “And perhaps then we can talk a little more about how you can cope with what happened?” 

“And you’ll make sure they let Sebastian out of that horrible place?” Jim demanded, looking nervous. “I need Sebastian to stay with me. He’s my only friend here and without him I might get too sad and have to do something about it...” 

Danni nodded her head, brows furrowed. She’d read Jim’s file and he had a history of self harm. “I’ll see what I can do. But after we’ve had a look at his nails I don’t see why that should be a problem. You need your friends now, Jim. You’ve been a very brave boy and you should be proud that you found the courage to speak to me today.” 

“Thank you, Danni. You’re my friend,” Jim said sweetly, hating the words and the way they tasted, although his eyes remained wide and fearful. It worked in his favour sometimes that he appeared so ‘cute’ with his large, sorrowful eyes and long lashes. 

“That’s right, I am your friend, Jim. I’ll try my best to help you.”

It seemed to Jim, as Danni handed him her office number and left the room, that life was made up of lies. Big ones and small ones. Lies for self preservation and for the preservation of others. Lies to incriminate and lies for fun. Everything was a big, nasty old mess. Adults lied and children lied and even the stories lied. Telling the truth led to trouble, being good led to trouble, doing as you were told led to ignorance. The only way to reach the top of the pile was to accept the way things were and adapt to it. 

Jim was going to adapt to it. He wasn’t going to break. He might have his bruises, but even they could be turned to his advantage if he was clever enough. He had his brain and he had Sebastian and he was going to combine those two things to become very fearsome indeed.


	38. Oxygen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavily implied abuse. Could be triggering.

Sebastian and Jim were separated for two days until the details were cleared up. Seb was sent to another children’s home close by, which despite not having staff trained in mental health issues, had more adults to supervise and more male workers, which Verity claimed would help Sebastian to relate as he was a potential danger to women, as well as to little boys. 

Of course, the reality was that Sebastian spent his two days feeling threatened, pressed in from all sides. Nobody mistreated him, but he was looked at like an animal instead of a person, and he had to eat by himself. He wasn’t allowed to interact with the other children either, not that he would have anyway. Being treated as though he was dangerous was nothing new to Sebastian, but it still made him feel odd inside, because he didn’t see himself as a bad person. More of a good person that did bad things sometimes. He still related to heroes in books, wanted to protect his country, and liked to imagine when his mind wandered, that people like Captain America and Han Solo would think he was brave and worthy. They would have understood him, he was sure of it.

He behaved impeccably well, needing to get back home, and when he was released he returned with a glowing review from the man who ran that particular children’s home. Despite Sebastian’s gruff nature, the man, Joseph, saw what Dawn had many years ago, and recognised a boy in a difficult situation not of his choosing. He sympathised, but could do nothing further to help. Sebastian would have been proud of the report sent back to Verity had he not been inwardly crumbling with worry about Jim. So much so that nothing else seemed to matter. Two days with no solid information had left Sebastian to fester, his skin burning. Jim was hurt and bruised, but the extent of his injuries were something nobody wanted to share with him. 

It turned out that Danni, who was mostly unbiased, could see that Sebastian was not to blame for the attack, not only because of his nails, but because Ben rang up the home in Sebastian’s defence (after a very distressed message from a frantic Sebastian) to provide an alibi. As much as Verity felt she was being duped, she couldn’t deny the evidence in front of her, and she was fully aware that Danni was trying to check the conditions of the home. Taking great pride in her work, Verity dropped her allegations, keen to keep her head down, lest she lose her job. It wouldn’t do to have people interfering, even if that meant putting up with Sebastian for another few months. By that point she assumed he would have done something else troublesome, because he couldn’t get away with his appalling behaviour forever. 

Jim was currently allowed time off school for trauma, and so he was already waiting in their bedroom, staring into space, touching the bruises on his wrists subconsciously when Sebastian returned. The Irish boy was lonely, but beyond that, he felt empty. Life without Sebastian was like being left alone on a desert island with no food or water, dangerous animals prowling everywhere, ready to strike you while you slept. 

The moment Jim saw Sebastian carrying his bags into the room with one of his harshest expressions on, he burst out crying, unable to stop, the sudden onslaught of unexpected emotion after days of repressing his feelings too much to handle. He collapsed on the ground, hugging his skinny knees to his chest. 

Sebastian ditched his things, closed the door behind himself and ran straight to him, immediately protective, although there was something plainly wrong with his demeanor. Usually Sebastian could be easily read, but not today. Today there was a barrier under his skin, like sheets of metal hiding the muscle and the blood, armour over his eyes so nobody could see in properly. 

The thirteen year old easily cradled Jim in his arms, and Jim didn’t struggle. He went completely limp, allowing himself to be picked up and carried without complaint. He’d used up all his energy resources dealing with the adults. Now the only thing left was pain. 

“It’s alright,” Sebastian mumbled, hugging Jim close, without any sign of his recent reluctance to show physical affection. Jim knew he had protective instincts, the same way that mother animals tended to have when their children were threatened. It was an amusing character trait for a boy like Sebastian, but it worked in his favour, so he wasn’t going to complain.

Jim didn’t respond. He didn’t have any words to say and his voice would have come out too weak anyway. 

“I’m here,” Sebastian continued, voice low and rough. It felt both close and distant at once, and Jim wondered if that meant his own brain had broken and he was detaching, or if Sebastian really was displaying both traits. It was too difficult to tell when he felt like this. Nothing made any sense. Not even his beloved numbers.

The blond carried Jim to his bed and settled him down on top of the covers, perching next to him, as though Jim was ill and Sebastian a visitor at the hospital. 

Seb started to stroke Jim’s hair, which still felt oddly sore. It must have been in his mind, Jim thought, because the hair pulling had happened days ago now, so it was impossible for his scalp to still ache and twinge. But this new touch was welcome because it proved that Sebastian was different. Sebastian didn’t pull and tug and try to control. He soothed and tried to clean him up in his own clumsy way, trying to flatten Jim’s fluffy hair as if that might return him to normal. 

The little boy blinked up at Sebastian, his eyes were rimmed with red and he looked incredibly frail. He was skinnier than Sebastian remembered, or perhaps that was just down to his current body language? None of his usual confidence remained, as though it had been kicked out of him.

Maybe you just didn’t look after him well enough, the voice in Sebastian’s head suggested. He recognised it from somewhere, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly which voice it was or where he had heard it before. Maybe if you hadn’t been so selfish you could have stopped it. Maybe if you’d given him attention instead of trying to enjoy yourself, Jim wouldn’t be crying right now…

“Sebastian,” Jim whispered, his tone broken. He didn’t continue immediately, so Seb didn’t push him, just kept stroking his hair, waiting. 

“It wasn’t w-wasn’t my fault,” he said, his words cracking at the end, sounding like he was about to start sobbing again. Sebastian couldn’t handle that, he could never handle it when Jim got like this. He curled up next to Jim, trying to completely cover his body with his arms and legs, acting as a physical barrier between Jim and the rest of the world as his best friend shook in his arms. 

“’Course it wasn’t,” Sebastian reassured him. “Everyone knows it wasn’t your fault.” Although Sebastian still didn’t know what ‘it’ was, and that made him feel more nauseated than he could explain.

Jim sniffed. “I should never have gone to the h-house…”

So it happened at a house. During a job. Something to do with the gang at Jim’s school. Someone had set him up. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sebastian insisted, the steel back in his voice. Jim couldn’t see his face, but he could sense that Sebastian’s lips were curling, his nose crinkling slightly. He wanted to ask more questions, to get the exact details, but he didn’t want Jim to break down entirely. He wanted to ask who had done it. How the situation had happened. Who had left Jim in such a vulnerable position. The circumstances from start to finish. But that was impossible. He’d be lucky to get even a few sentences out of Jim without sending him into a screaming fit.

“They said bruises on your arms,” Sebastian prompted lowly, hating himself for dragging everything back up, but needing his answers. How else could he complete his mission objectives? “Anywhere else?” 

“My chest and my hips,” Jim said, faltering slightly. “And other places they don’t know about. I didn’t like to show them…” 

Other places. Other fucking places. Sebastian felt sick. He felt sick because the system sure as hell wasn’t going to protect Jim. He felt sick because there was no justice in the world. He was the useless one, he was the failure. It should have been him instead. Not Jim. Never Jim. How could a loving God have let this happen? It didn’t make sense. Over and over again Sebastian felt himself drifting away from religion, only to be pulled back, but now? No more. A world where people like Jim got hurt was a world he didn’t want to be part of. He didn’t want to support it. He wanted to actively set himself up as the opposition, because someone had to, didn’t they? Someone had to take a stand. Someone had to look after Jim Moriarty because otherwise he’d get kicked around for the rest of his life, that magnificent brain going to waste because people were stupid fucking idiots who liked to pick on people who were different. 

“Bad places?” Sebastian asked tentatively. 

Had Jim been his usual self he would have scoffed at the euphemism, because he wasn’t a baby and he didn’t need to be talked down to. He knew his anatomy better than Sebastian did, and wasn’t embarrassed to discuss it. But as it was, he took a breath and then broke down again. 

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” Sebastian practically chanted as Jim started to tremble and whine again. “Don’t cry, Jim. I’m here now.” 

“It’s too late,” Jim whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks, although his fingers clutched at Sebastian’s t-shirt. “It’s all too late. It’s all finished now. It’s all over. It’s finished, Sebby. It’s f-finished…” 

Sebastian didn’t know what was finished, all he knew was that Jim was slipping away from him. He was physically present, but his mind was starting to run. He needed it to stay for just a bit longer. 

“L-look,” Jim whispered, shifting slightly and pulling up the hem of his shirt to reveal marks where fingers had pressed too hard into his skinny hips. Sebastian knew full well there was only one reason there would be marks on that particular area of skin.

Sebastian gritted his teeth and felt his chest ache. “You’re safe now,” he mumbled, even though that wasn’t the truth.

Jim could feel Sebastian shaking. He only ever shook when he was about to explode, to erupt like a volcano. But Jim wasn’t scared. It was like he was transferring some of his pain to his best friend, and it felt good to share it. 

“Kid at your school or someone else?”

“Just a man,” Jim whispered. Although he wasn’t just a man at all. He was terrifying. A person had never scared Jim so much in his whole life. 

Sebastian grunted. Falling silent for a while, he stroked his fingers through Jim’s hair and then down to his neck over and over. So some bloke, some fucking bastard had hurt Jim. A bully. A fucking piece of shit. 

Target identified. More information needed. 

“Do they know what happened?” Sebastian asked shortly, inclining his head at the door to indicate Verity, Frank and Dawn. 

The littler boy shook his head, cheeks pink with embarrassment. To the knowledge of Verity and his care coordinator, he’d been beaten up, and he was keen to keep it that way. Sebastian had seen through it all straight away, though, and that was because he was smart. His mind went neatly from step to step, order after order being processed. As well as his intelligence, Jim knew Sebastian could tell what had happened because he worried and he cared. He looked, right now, like a boy trapped in a nightmare. He was experiencing pain just like Jim’s, which was what led him to say the single word he’d been fighting away for days.

“Hurts,” Jim admitted quietly, which was the closest he would come to discussing the incident. 

There was a long pause. Sebastian sniffed and blinked with unnerving slowness. 

“Right,” Sebastian said, in his deep business voice, the one he used before he charged at someone who had insulted Jim, his warning. Something had snapped into place inside his brain, something that seemed to have been readying itself for years. “Right, I’m gonna sort it,” he continued, moving himself away from Jim, who whimpered as he was left, so he could grab his dressing gown, draping it over the smaller boy with a great amount of care. Jim didn’t complain any further because he usually got told off when he curled up with Sebastian’s dressing gown. One time when he’d appeared at breakfast wearing it, Verity had been very cross, and when Sebastian had spoken to him alone, he’d sworn at him and told him to wear his own damn clothes.

“Can’t you stay?” Jim asked, half sitting up. He didn’t want to be alone now. Not after two days by himself. He wanted someone to hold him and remind him that not all touches were bad.

“Not tonight,” Sebastian said clearly, his eyes far away. “I have something to do.” 

Jim swallowed, anticipating Sebastian’s next words. His wonderful, vengeful, Sebastian. He really was like one of those knights in Le Morte d’Arthur. The moment was almost too beautiful. 

“Name and address,” Seb requested lowly, already stripping off his blue t-shirt and hunting through the wardrobe for something darker, pulling out a plain black shirt that was too big. 

Jim lay down again slowly and watched the scars on Sebastian’s back. They were getting fainter as he aged, and it had been a long while since Sebastian had felt the need to hide them from him. Jim had the urge to touch them, something he often thought about, but there was no time for that now. 

“They won’t let you into the armed forces,” Jim reminded him in a small voice, observing the methodical way Sebastian began to unpack his black school bag, taking out his books and pens and some wrapped up piece of food most likely cooked by Sophie’s father. 

“Name and address,” Sebastian repeated calmly. 

Jim’s heart began to pound. 

“It’s too far.” 

“I’ve got all night,” Sebastian countered, in the same steady voice.

“What are you going to do?” 

Sebastian shot Jim an even look, holding his gaze for a long time, swallowing. His Adam’s apple bobbed beautifully and his jaw gave an odd twitch that Jim’s eyes caught on before drifting back to his cold blue eyes. 

“Kill him,” he said simply. 

Jim let out a tiny sigh of excitement and bliss, his eyes closing for a moment. 

Sebastian carried on hunting through his bag and Jim was forced to open his eyes again. He needed to see Sebastian. He wanted memories of this new face. It was a historical moment. 

“I’ll love you forever if you don’t get caught,” Jim bargained, curling in on himself but still watching Sebastian unpack his bag. Occasionally the older boy paused, his eyes flashing with something hard and cold and unreasonable. He looked like a soldier. Ready to be reprogrammed. Ready to serve. 

Was Sebastian really going to do this, or was it just a game? Were they pretending this time? Was it just another chance for Sebastian to play at being an adventurer?

“But if you do get caught,” Jim added, needing to make himself clear. His expectations hadn’t dropped after all. His pride was wounded and he was in pain, both physical and mental, but that didn’t mean he would accept shoddy work. “Then I’ll have to give up on you.” 

Sebastian glanced at his wrist watch and then stood up. It wasn’t quite time yet. He’d have to leave when all the other kids were asleep. Jim would be his alibi, and he could climb out of the bedroom window no bother. There were bins that could break his fall and a drainpipe close enough to help him on his descent. Getting back in would be a struggle, but he knew it could be done. If he was headed for the army, he’d have to learn to think on his feet. This was both a vengeance mission and a training exercise. His first proper go at fighting for a cause. He understood Jim’s terms entirely. This was about him redeeming himself and proving himself worthy. And he would do it. He would find the monster that he knew would haunt Jim’s future nightmares. Find him and slay him. Forever eliminating him. Threat erased. 

He walked over to the bed where Jim was curled up, looking far younger than he was, and then got on his knees beside it, resting his head on the pillow next to Jim, staring at his wide, brown eyes.

They remained frozen like that for a minute or so. Sebastian couldn’t see that inside Jim’s head he was shrieking, and Jim couldn’t see past the armour of Sebastian’s own eyes which were already closing off. But without words they felt bonded. They simultaneously understood and confused each other.

“I love you, Sebastian,” Jim whispered honestly, breaking the silence, reaching for Sebastian’s blond hair, petting him like a dog, like a loyal puppy. 

“Love you too,” Sebastian breathed back. 

“Really enough to kill someone?” Jim asked in a small voice. 

Jim held his breath, ready for Sebastian to laugh, to tell him that this wasn’t real life at all. They were playing pretend. It only existed in their imaginations. He would be sleeping in his bunk tonight and Jim would have to move into his own bed. There was nothing they could do. They were just kids. Powerless.

But Sebastian didn’t say anything of the sort. He leaned in and kissed Jim on the forehead, letting his lips linger for a while. 

“Enough to kill everyone.”


	39. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian commits his first murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes mention of torture and violence.

Sebastian set out at one in the morning, school bag secured over his shoulder, dressed in all black, hoodie casting a shadow over his face to disguise his blond hair, which might have proved memorable to witnesses. Jim had slipped him a pair of slightly too small leather gloves to avoid fingerprints, which he was now wearing, although they irritated his hands. Sebastian liked to be able to touch things and was a very tactile person. He got a kick out of touching railings and getting splinters in his hands from climbing trees and the odd burn of cold metal on warm palms. Still, Jim knew what he was on about, and Sebastian was accepting of any hints he was offered. This was clearly a test, but one Jim seemed to want him to pass. 

In his favour; his height, his anonymity. Nobody would see him and think he was a thirteen year old boy. He could even have passed for sixteen like this. The people who lived close by took pains not to associate themselves with the ‘mental’ care home children, and so there was little to no chance of Sebastian being recognised. 

Getting out of the window was easier than he’d expected. He found a foothold and using the drainpipe he began to climb down, landing lightly on the bins as planned, crouching on impact to prevent falling on his face. Any major noise would be guaranteed to make Verity come running, or Chloe, who was too fucking nosy for her own good and had a tendency to cause trouble. 

Slipping easily through the back garden, he found the familiar gap in the fence, the place he and Jim used whenever they fancied a walk and weren’t allowed. For such a large boy, it should have been a struggle to climb through, but Sebastian was very aware of his body, focused on controlling his limbs and filled with a sort of cold fire. Once he’d maneuvered himself through the wooden boards, he straightened up, fixed his posture, actively changing his stance to make himself appear older. Eyes on the ground he began the long walk to Stanley Benson’s house. Long strides, slight sway to his step, shoulders hunched, like the people Jim declared were ‘chavs’ when he saw them out. 

The rougher the neighbourhoods got, the faster Sebastian’s heart hammered in his chest. He was impatient, wanting to get on with the task at hand. All this poncing around pissed him off. He knew he had to be clever, that he couldn’t just beat the bloke to death and let him drown in his own blood. That would have been satisfying, but way too incriminating. Jim didn’t want him to get caught, so there was no chance of ripping out his spine and shoving it up his arse. This had to be dealt with professionally. Sebastian was going to give it his best shot. As always. 

Sebastian passed other dodgy-looking figures who didn’t look up and meet his eyes. For all Seb knew they were off to do the same thing. He passed rowdy teenagers and houses where music blared and old people complained. He dodged dog shit smeared on the street, and needles which lay at the side of the road. A lone woman standing on a street corner put on a forced laugh and climbed into the back of a car with blacked-out plates and a broken tail light. Her tights were laddered and her shoes too high for her to walk in properly. 

All of this might have combined to worry Sebastian under usual circumstances. He could probably be stabbed here and nobody would come to his aid. He could get bundled into a white van, attacked by drunks. But today this information soothed him. Because the closer he came to his target, the more clear it became that this was somewhere you could get away with almost anything. If he could get beaten half to death here and left bleeding out on the street without so much as a look from the people around, then logic dictated he could carry out his own mission without much resistance. It was obvious the police had given up on this area, like all authorities, Sebastian was learning, so often did. Any effort and the people in charge would just shut down, immovable, too lazy to put themselves out. At school Sebastian was taught that all people were born equal, but he knew that wasn’t the truth. If you had money people cared, if you lived in a dump and had no parents to protect you, you were easy game. He was supposed to be easy game because he was going nowhere. Jim was supposed to be easy game because he was short and skinny and on his way to getting sectioned. Neither were expected to survive in society up to adulthood.

The real truth, Seb thought, the one nobody wanted you to find out, was that the world ran on imbalance. Keeping the rich in control, the poor powerless. People like Jim were forever going to get screwed over unless someone did something. Why were he and Jim worth less than anyone else because of the way they’d grown up? Why did nobody care when Jim tried to kill himself? Why did Seb get treated like some sort of animal? 

As a child, Sebastian had believed in the good of humanity, but that was all crumbling away now, peeling off like layers of skin. When he looked a little closer, the world came into focus so fast it almost knocked him off his feet. He was going to die in the army and nobody would give a shit. Jim was going to kill himself and everyone would pretend they’d tried their best to help him, that they cared about him. The world would keep on turning. God wouldn’t show his face. Not one person would even take the time of day to think about Jim Moriarty and his potential. Nobody would weep at either of their graves. There was no Heaven to drift off to, and even if there was there was no guarantee they’d be together. Heaven without Jim Moriarty was as bad as Hell. 

And so Sebastian resolved to become iron on the inside. Replacing vulnerable skin with chainmail. Being good was for the privileged. The spoiled brats who society gave a damn about. No matter how far he and Jim pushed in their lives, no matter what they achieved, they’d always be no good. A pair of blokes draining resources. Better off in prison. In an institution. Tucked away where nobody would be forced to look directly at the ugly truth of their lives. 

Nobody messed with Jim, no matter how old they were, how much money they had. Sebastian once believed in guardian angels, back when he was a kid. But that was all just a dream, another technique to manipulate people. Be good, you’re being watched. Don’t upset the big man or you might just burn for eternity. If there was such a thing as guardian angels, then Jim hadn’t received his, and now he was paying for it. He was an innocent kid dealt a shitty hand. Messed up in the head because people wouldn’t listen. Sebastian understood now why he so often screamed.

It was time to start playing dirty. No rules and no regrets. 

The address was carved into the inside of Sebastian’s brain, along with the description of Stanley’s home. When Sebastian reached it he didn’t hesitate. He assessed the surroundings, eyes scanning the property, looking for ways in. Breaking into a house was easy enough, especially after hearing all of Jim’s stories. Sebastian spotted the open window on the upper floor and his lips curled. Simple. Bins to start with, flat ledge, dent in the brickwork which could work as a foothold, drainpipe, burglar alarm box (fake), kick the window open wide enough to climb through. 

Aside from one sickening moment where Sebastian felt his gut lurch because the bricks moved slightly and he couldn’t get a grip properly with his leather gloves, everything went to plan. He landed in the upstairs bathroom, careful not to make a sound. The room was dark and full of needles, grimy tiles, the bathtub scummy around the edges, toilet seat left up. Sebastian grimaced at the stink of the house, leaving the bathroom and heading into the hall.

Jim had warned of a potential dog, but Sebastian didn’t believe there were two animals here. Just one. The house didn’t smell like dogs, more like old food, of alcohol, smoke and filth. 

The sign outside was most likely a warning, to make him seem intimidating and deter burglars. And if there was a dog then Sebastian would just have to get rid of it. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, because he wasn’t here to hurt some ugly slobbering canine, but some things were necessary. Just like in war. Collateral damage, just like Jim said. Just the same as how politicians lied constantly on the news. Civilians got caught in the crossfire all the time, but the objective came first. Paradigm shift, Jim had whispered to Sebastian with a smirk, back when Seb had looked appalled at hearing about a load of soldiers abusing prisoners of war. They say it’s for the greater good. Because the people in charge are allowed to define what good is. That’s just life, Sebby…

Sebastian checked the entire upstairs floor. Nothing at all. Stanley wasn’t asleep in the bedroom like Sebastian had hoped. Which meant he was most likely awake and downstairs, unless he was out. He doubted it though, because the lights were all on. 

So Sebastian took a breath and made his way down the stairs, moving slowly in case of creaking floorboards, ignoring the trainers on the stairs, the cigarette butts half trodden into the stained carpet. 

The living room was empty, as was the kitchen. Only one room left. The place where Jim had been taken. It had to be. There were five locks on the outside of the door, installed by the bloke himself by the looks of it, nailed into the door frame, large and ominous. 

Sebastian reached into his bag and pulled out the craft knife stolen from the woodwork department at school. Clutching it in his gloved hand, his left today, he pushed the door open slowly to get a look inside. 

Stanley Benson was asleep, it seemed. Sprawled out on a battered black sofa, dribble creeping its way down his stubbly chin. He was surrounded by bottles; vodka and whiskey, the same cheap stuff Sebastian had seen littered around the streets. Sebastian was suddenly struck by a memory, one he hadn’t realised he’d been storing for nine years, tucked away in the back of his mind:

A man passed out from drinking, a dangerous animal in slumber. Sebastian just had to be nice and quiet and not disturb him otherwise there would be consequences, and he so wanted to be good. It was like a game and he was a soldier. He had to fetch his toy because he wanted it, but the man was so scary. Maybe if he crept along the floor? Mummy wouldn’t be happy about it, she’d tell him off. But Sebastian was brave like his Father and maybe Father wouldn’t mind anyway. Maybe he’d stop getting cross this time. Maybe, if Sebastian could prove himself, show how brave and strong he was, he and his Mummy wouldn’t have to be so scared anymore…

Sebastian shook his head, forcing the feelings away. Now was not the time. It could wait. 

Stanley was passed out, Sebastian could tell. Another memory popped into his head, common sense learned by experience, hidden away for convenience, to save the shame of his past helplessness, to save the honour of his beloved father. Passed out meant pathetic, it meant clumsy, it meant no memories. Passed out meant Sebastian wasn’t going to have to put his boxing skills to use. It made things easy.

On the table, along with a set of syringes, Sebastian could see papers. There were a ton of porno magazines on the floor which Sebastian barely even spared a glance, but these papers were different. Printed on flimsy A4, creased like they’d been looked at too many times. Taking a step closer, eyes narrowed, Sebastian spotted an image that made him want to vomit. 

Paedophile. 

The kid in the picture wasn’t Jim, but it may as well have been. Sebastian could see Jim in that same position inside his head, whimpering, tears streaming down his cheeks. Trying to fight. Would Jim have fought? It was impossible to tell. Maybe he’d have tried to talk his way out of it. There was no way he’d have stood a chance against the man in the room. He must have been so fucking scared. He probably thought he was going to die. Probably shut down. Probably bit down on his tongue to stop himself from screaming…

The knife wasn’t necessary now. Bleeding out was too quick a death, and it would leave evidence behind. Seb would get blood on his clothes, have to come into close contact with the beast. His blue eyes passed over the cigarette butts on the floor, the alcohol everywhere, the odd lighting, the stacks of papers and porno magazines. He remembered those five locks on the door outside. Sturdy. In fact, there was probably no way to get out from the inside. He supposed under exceptional circumstances you could break it down, but while passed out? No. Even if he woke up he’d be under the influence. Could a man of his size shoulder open the door? 

Sebastian thought fast, more memories flooding through his head. He and his mother had hidden once in the bathroom when his father was in a rage. There had only been two locks on that door and they were on the inside. His father had kicked his way in, but it had taken him a while, and even then the door didn’t come right off its hinges, just broke and cracked. Sebastian remembered thinking that if only there had been more locks, if they’d been a bit bigger, it would have kept him out. He also remembered the scent of his mother and the way she had cried and attempted to shield him from the blows that rained down later on…

Seb picked up the stack of magazines from the table and laid them out all around, covering as much of the room as he could. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, the one he’d nicked from the newsagents because he was bored and fancied a challenge. Picking out three cigarettes from the packet ready and waiting on the table, Sebastian lit them one by one. The first he threw into the corner, where it began to flicker to life. The second he chucked at the main area of magazines, and they began to curl instantly. The third he lit and held in his hand for a moment. He took a drag, sniffed, and then with perfect aim lobbed it at Stanley and the sofa, where it fell between the cushions. 

It happened very quickly after that. Sebastian spat on Stanley, locked the door, noticed, with a grim sort of thrill that the room was soundproofed, because once the door was closed the crackling couldn’t be heard. There was no gap under that door, no way for a person to get leverage. There wasn’t even light licking into the hall, although the fire would spread soon enough. The fire safety talk he’d been given at school said that a fire could engulf a medium-sized in thirty seconds if the conditions were right. 

Seb darted back upstairs, ran for the bathroom, climbed out of the window, fearless with exhilaration as he jumped onto the grass with a small thump. No broken bones. No remorse. No sign of the fire yet. 

In his head he imagined Stanley waking up, disorientated, surrounded by an odd smell, light everywhere. Then sudden, searing pain. Sebastian had burned himself with a lighter before and he knew that bite, that scent. Only this would be everywhere. Stanley would stumble towards the door, fumble for the locks, only to remember what he’d done. Because he’d brought it on himself, Stanley. He’d created his ‘lair,’ he’d made it so nobody could escape. He wanted a room in which to keep his child pornography, to trap the kids he lured in or paid for, he wanted the screams and the pleading muffled so the neighbours couldn’t hear. So they couldn’t rescue the victim. So they were trapped and terrified and facing intense pain. 

Sebastian shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked through the streets, not looking back at the house to see the developments. He wanted to shout with adrenaline, he wanted to run. He wanted to punch the air. He wanted to take on a whole fucking army in Jim’s name. This was power. The world might not give two shits about justice, but Sebastian did. All that morality jammed into his head was useless, utterly fucking meaningless. He let it drift away into the night, into the polluted London streets, unnecessary now. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. 

The only thing that mattered was Jim.


	40. Laundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim personally makes sure Sebastian's incriminating clothes get washed and gets caught up in a chat with Dawn

A shadow passed the room and then the door opened with a sigh of effort. Although the person that entered the laundry room was initially hidden behind a pile of clothes, the woman’s height and stance gave her away. 

“I’m using this washing machine,” Jim said loudly, so Dawn wouldn’t accidentally drop a pile of dirty clothes and sheets near him, or heaven forefend, on him. 

Dawn poked her head around the massive heap of clothes and then shifted them into a large weaved basket.

“You don’t have to do the washing, Jim,” she said kindly. She was still looking at him with gentle concern, as she had been doing since his ‘accident.’ Dawn thought he was going manic again, or losing control and his grip on reality. It was irritating really, when all he was doing was some washing, but at least he could use it to his advantage. “I can do it. Just chuck whatever it is in the pile, sort it into lights and darks if you feel up to it, then I can deal with the rest.” 

Well, this was frustrating, because he hardly wanted to be drawn into sorting out the dirty washing of all the other stinky children. For a moment he considered playing a good little Cinderella, but then changed his mind. Even with his mood swings, it was too out of character. Lies had to be wrapped up in truths to make them easier to swallow, something Jim had observed and learned all by himself. So he raised his head and then rolled his eyes at Dawn. 

“I don’t want to touch those things, they might give me germs,” he declared.

“Okay,” Dawn said easily, moving to separate the clothes all by herself. As well as Jim was able to tolerate Dawn, he didn’t exactly want her sitting in the laundry room with him right now. Who knew how long he’d have to stay here until he could safely get Sebastian’s incriminating clothes back upstairs?

“Are you not going to ask me what I’m doing in here?” Jim asked after a moment, his back protectively shielding the spinning items in his machine. 

Dawn gave another of her small smiles. “This is your home, Jim. You don’t have to get permission to be here. A lot of the older ones do their own washing. It’s okay if you’d rather that than have other people touching your things.” 

It was a fairly good cover, but Jim’s sheets were light blue today, and the ones in the machine were navy. No point in making more lies over a flimsy basis, better to restructure the foundations. 

“It isn’t my washing,” Jim admitted. “It’s Sebastian’s.” 

Dawn pushed some of her blonde hair out of her eyes. She seemed to be growing it longer these days. Jim actually quite admired it even though it was fine and wispy. It definitely suited Dawn, and so did the eyeliner she sometimes wore. Sebastian declared that Dawn was changing because of Rajesh, but Jim thought it seemed more likely that Dawn was just getting a bit more confident, which was probably a good thing.

“Did he ask you to do it?” Dawn asked curiously, understanding that Sebastian rarely asked favours from anyone. 

“Well, yes and no,” Jim drawled out in his sing-song voice. “He was embarrassed to do it himself, and he didn’t want someone like you or Frank seeing his things.” 

“Embarrassed?” 

Jim gave a knowing nod. “You know what teenage boys are like,” Jim told Dawn solemnly. Sebastian wouldn’t like that lie one bit, but it could hardly be helped.

Dawn glanced at the spinning navy bed sheets and then had to fight back a smile.

“Well, you can tell him that in the future, he can just pop the sheets in the basket down here, or even in his room, and I’ll put them through the wash for him. It’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about.” 

Jim quite agreed. He certainly wouldn’t be embarrassed when he hit the same age as Sebastian was now and experienced similar things. But Seb was odd like that, secretive and determined to present himself in a certain way. Jim wondered if that was a teenage thing, or if it was just something made worse by how shy Sebastian was about personal subjects. 

“Thank you, but I’ll keep watch over them this time. I said I would, and I feel bored, Dawn. Bored, bored, bored…” 

“Cheer up, you’ll be back at school soon,” Dawn said brightly. “Only one more week at home, isn’t it?” 

Jim nodded his head. A whole week of doing nothing. A whole week of no Sebastian around and only Harry for company because he was currently excluded. Jim didn’t like Harry because he tried so hard to be Sebastian. He’d even taken to wearing the same style of hoodies, only it didn’t make him look handsome and tough the way it did Seb, it just made him look like a copycat. Jim despised copycats. 

“I wish I could go back now,” Jim sighed, sitting down on the laundry room’s tiled floor, legs and arms crossed, his back against the rumbling washing machine. 

“You need to rest,” Dawn pointed out, now trying to pair up socks. That was a mystery Jim would one day have to look into, why socks would be put in the dirty pile in pairs and somehow manage to separate and go missing in the washing process, never to be seen again. 

“But I can’t rest without Sebastian,” Jim told Dawn, blinking at her. “Is that how it is with you and old Rajesh?” 

Dawn laughed at that. “Old Rajesh? He’s only in his twenties,” she pointed out, although her blue eyes had grown bright at the mention of him. She was certainly in love, and it was half-sickening to witness, half-interesting. 

“Is he still going to that science fair near Oxford?” Jim asked eagerly. 

“I think so. He’s giving a talk.” 

“He’s quite clever really, for an ordinary person,” Jim begrudgingly commented, stroking his chin thoughtfully. 

Dawn watched Jim’s mannerisms, which were so over the top sometimes that it was hard to tell if they were natural, or an elaborate pantomime. He had always had a taste for the theatrical, which made his association with Sebastian who was both blunt and self-conscious all the more amusing.

“Do you suppose he could take me with him?” he asked sweetly. 

She shook her head. “Sorry, Jim, but I don’t think so. He’d have to have permission, you know what it’s like. You have to be supervised, and I think it’s on a school day. You can’t really be allowed time off for fun when the others aren’t.”

Jim pouted, but understood this was true. There was no point in wasting his time on something he couldn’t change. “In that case, I have a request. Please will you ask him to bring me back some leaflets? And his lecture notes would be nice too, not just his own, all the ones he can get his hands on.” 

“Any particular subject?” 

“Anything clever and to do with science.” 

Dawn continued to sort socks and fold vests and pants, and Jim continued to sit very still and watch. She wasn’t methodical in her actions like Sebastian, she was easily distracted and occasionally muttered to herself as she misplaced various items. Jim uncrossed his legs then and pointed at the things she was looking for with his toes, trying to he helpful. 

When she’d finished and the washing machine grumbled to a stop, she gave Jim a smile. “It’s nice to have some company,” she said. “I’m such a scatter-brain. My gran used to say I’d lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on properly.” 

“If you lost your head you’d be dead. Not if you were a snake, though. They can still bite for a bit,” Jim revealed in a wise voice.

Dawn nodded her head, again trying not to look too amused by that tone.

“I’ll go and make us some tea.” 

Jim waited for Dawn to leave the room and then raced to the machine, pulling out the clothes and sheets, wrapping them up together and scuttling up the stairs with them in his arms. The sheets he left in a ball on Sebastian’s bed, because he could put them on later, but the clothes he placed on their hangers and tidied away. Black jeans, black shirt, black hoodie. All looking fresh and clean (although wet) and definitely not smelling of smoke. 

He returned to Dawn just minutes later, trying to look casual and bored once again, although inwardly he was excited, because this had been easy. Easy in a way that gave him a thrill, not easy in the way that meant he didn’t have to use any thoughts or effort. 

Once in the kitchen he met with the pleasing sight of the biscuit tin and a cup of tea set at his favourite place at the table. But instead of sitting down in his usual spot, he shifted up by one seat and settled into the place Sebastian favoured. 

“I’ve got some biscuits here, but let’s keep that a secret, shall we?” Dawn said, eyes twinkling. Verity had grown even more strict with her healthy eating campaign, which meant, much to the dismay of the children, that biscuits and chocolate were only allowed on special occasions. Jim thought this was probably a breach of his human rights, and if it wasn’t, then it should be. 

Jim’s eyes gleamed greedily. He picked one up and dunked it into his tea. Dawn had put in just the right amount of sugar and milk. 

“What made you choose Rajesh?” Jim questioned as he nibbled on his biscuit, savouring the treat because he knew times when he had his pick of the biscuit tin were rare. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, what can he do for you that other people can’t? I know he works at the Science Museum, which is handy, but you don’t like science much, do you?” 

“Not really,” Dawn admitted. 

“Sooooo, what’s the benefit?” 

“He’s a very kind man, he makes me laugh, I enjoy his company?” Dawn offered, sensing that instead of mocking her, Jim was genuinely curious. 

“Is he rich?” 

Dawn shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Hm. Is he strong?”

Rajesh was a strong character in the sense that he was a good man and cared a lot for his family. He was very interested in politics and helping people. But he wasn’t physically strong and was thin in build. 

“Not in the way you’re thinking of.” 

Jim frowned, unable to comprehend what Dawn would be doing with a man that wasn’t useful, wealthy or muscular. It didn’t make any sense to him at all. 

“How about handsome?” Jim demanded. “He doesn’t look handsome to me. I wouldn’t go for him.” 

Dawn paused, again fighting off a smile. 

“I think he’s very handsome,” she said solemnly. 

“He isn’t,” Jim informed Dawn, as though doing her a favour. She didn’t take offence, though, just nodded, as though she valued, but disagreed with his opinion. 

“And who would you go for, then?” Dawn asked, sipping at her cup of tea. 

Jim narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Someone that wasn’t Rajesh. Why are you asking me that?” 

“It was only a question. We can talk about something else if you want.”  


The Irish boy tilted is head to one side, still looking slightly distrustful. 

“No, I want to talk about Rajesh. Why do you like him? What exactly is it and how do you know? In detail.” 

It was strange how Jim tended to phrase his questions like essay papers, the type Dawn had always hated when she was at school. “Well, I suppose we get on well. We like similar things. Raj understands the hours I work, and he wants children one day, which I do too. We both like kids.” 

Jim hummed. That wasn’t nearly as in depth as he’d wanted her answer to be. It told him nothing new at all. 

“What do you think of Raj?” Dawn asked carefully. 

“I don’t like his skin,” Jim announced after another moment of pondering. 

Dawn went suddenly stern, a very un-Dawn-like expression on her face. 

“No, not like that,” Jim sighed, sounding put-out that he had to even explain this to her. “Not in a racist way. Some Indian people are very handsome, like the man in Carly’s magazine on the aftershave advert. I only meant it looks too smooth.” 

Dawn was surprised that Jim would notice something like that, but she supposed it was true. 

“And I like skin that’s rough,” Jim continued. 

The blonde care worker decided to humour him. Jim was very particular about people, and she knew that coming from his mouth, a comment that wasn’t expressing complete dismissal was fairly close to a glowing review. 

“So you like rough skin, then?” 

“Yes.” 

“What else?” 

Jim blinked at her, seeing this as a stupid question. He reached for another biscuit and then shrugged. It wasn’t one of his usual gestures at all. It was one he’d decided to borrow from Sebastian every so often. 

“I have certain criteria,” Jim said eventually, his voice airy and deliberately vague. He liked the word ‘criteria.’ It was another that sounded more important than it actually was. 

“Aren’t you a little young to be narrowing down your list of romantic interests?” 

“I’m allowed to think ahead,” Jim pointed out. He appreciated that Dawn had said ‘romantic interests’ instead of ‘girls.’ He and Dawn could have this secret together. It was one he suspected even Sebastian might not take too well. At least, not to start with. 

Still, this conversation wasn’t going where he wanted it to, and Jim never took part in a conversation if he wasn’t enjoying it or it wasn’t necessary in some way. So he steered the talking back to Rajesh.

“Do you suppose you’ll marry him?” Jim questioned, coming to terms with the fact that Dawn had a life outside of her job. It was an odd realisation that made him feel strange inside. He thought of Dawn as Sebastian’s sort-of sister, and therefore his ally, but she must go home each night and become someone different, in her own surroundings, he mused. She would probably end up as a mother one day, and have her own family.

“It’s early days, Jim.” 

Now that didn’t make any sense either. What did early days mean? Dawn had known Rajesh for quite a while now, so surely she could tell if she was going to try and catch him for herself or not? She must have known if Rajesh had enough potential to continue with…

“Yes, yes,” Jim said quickly, waving his hand with impatience. “But I’d know already if it was me.” 

“How?” 

“Well, I’d have to choose who I wanted, and if I wanted them for definite, I’d have them. Simple.” 

“It isn’t that simple, Jim,” she tried to explain. Dawn liked Jim, but she knew it was always a good idea to help him with empathy and try and encourage him in the least patronising way possible to see other people as full humans with needs and wants and desires, not just objects and possessions for his amusement. “The other person has to want you equally as much.”

“Obviously,” Jim said, rolling his eyes. “I know that. You could only keep someone if they wanted to be kept.” 

“Keep someone?” 

“Yes. Make them yours and let them live around you.” 

Dawn sighed and cupped her mug of tea in her hands. It didn’t seem like Jim was being deliberately inflammatory, in fact, he seemed worryingly sincere.

“Is that what love is to you, Jim?” she asked quietly. 

Jim frowned because he couldn’t understand the look Dawn was giving him. He hadn’t said anything particularly shocking, had he? No, he mused, he’d been perfectly polite and reasonable. But if that was the case, why was Dawn looking so sad and worried?

“Love is a stupid word,” was all Jim said, now turning sulky with embarrassment. Sebastian would have understood, but Dawn couldn’t. Nobody else seemed able to. 

Taking as many biscuits as he could carry, Jim abandoned his tea and left the room, almost daring Dawn to stop him. She didn’t.


	41. The Day After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is struggling to act normal at school and in front of his friends. Jim has plans for the future.

“I suppose you’re worried about Jim,” Newt commented, wringing his hands as he stood by Sebastian’s desk in the form room. The blond was slumped and he kept on throwing a tiny rubber ball up and down, snatching it out of the air at almost a second too late each time. A couple of the girls watched him admiringly from a distance, but Sophie gave them one of her most fearsome looks and they averted their eyes. 

“Of course he is,” Sophie interjected with a tut, giving Newt a shove. “Don’t ask questions, Newt. Honestly… boys are so clueless. No offence.”

“None taken,” Newt said valiantly. 

Sebastian had spent the morning dead on his feet. Aside from suffering from exhaustion and stress, he was filled with an icy sensation inside his veins. He felt no remorse and he felt no guilt, but he couldn’t prevent the creeping fear threatening to catch up with him. Fear that he’d get caught by the same people that took away his father. The police were the enemy, always had been, and they couldn’t be allowed to get him. 

“Act natural, tell them you feel sick if you can’t hold it together, try not to speak if you feel yourself giving away too much, whatever you do don’t cry, because that’s suspicious,” Jim had advised when he and Sebastian had woken up in the morning.

“Not gonna cry,” Sebastian mumbled, although his teeth were chattering.

Jim nodded his head and patted Sebastian lightly on the chest.

Seb had gone for an early shower to freshen himself up, and Jim had promised to deal with his clothing during the day. Since he was home from school for a week, he was perfectly positioned to get rid of any potential evidence. 

Under the running water, Sebastian had collapsed on the shower floor, curling up in a ball as he rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. He felt as though he was running, an entirely different sensation to the addictive soaring of the previous evening. A night with no sleep was making him irritable, but beyond that was the knowledge of what he’d done, now stamped on his forehead in invisible ink, only to be seen in the mirror or by Jim. 

“Now, I’ll need you home this evening, with me, so you’ll have to cancel swimming,” Jim had instructed quietly.

Seb nodded wordlessly. 

“Don’t look so glum, darling. You’re a hero,” he soothed him, and for once Sebastian didn’t snap at the overly affectionate name. Sebastian was grateful for that reassurance. If he’d had the chance he’d have done it all over again, but that didn’t mean his chest didn’t ache, hands trembling when he thought of the road he had chosen for himself. An apology wasn’t going to cancel this one out. He’d finally taken a step over that dangerous line and there was nowhere else to go but forwards. 

Han Solo would have done it for Princess Leia, he told himself. Captain America would have done it for Iron Man. Sir Lancelot would have done it for Guinevere. 

“What are you going to do today?” Jim asked, needing to test his slightly damaged best friend. Jim had been expecting some sort of melt down this morning, but was so far impressed that Sebastian was still capable of getting on with things. It was undeniable that Seb would make a good soldier, even if Jim found the idea distasteful. “Tell me, Seb.” 

“Normal stuff,” Sebastian grunted. “I’ll do my homework on the way to school. Lessons. Won’t get into much trouble. Won’t be too good either. Won’t act different to usual.”

Jim nodded, accepting this. 

“Tonight we can discuss this properly, but until then you have to be strong and not let me down. You won’t let me down, will you?” 

“No, Jim.” 

“That’s a good boy.” 

Jim had risen up on his tiptoes and kissed Seb on the cheek before letting him leave the room and head for the minibus. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Ben wants to know if you’re still coming over tonight. Apparently he’s recorded a match for you to watch. Oh, and he’s got pizza. Your favourite type he told me to tell you,” Sophie relayed, giving Newt a poke because he was once again looking quietly devastated and affected on Sebastian’s behalf. 

Sebastian was momentarily released from his nauseous prison, touched by the gesture. It would have been nice to spend some time with Ben, just relax for a bit. But then he sniffed and shrugged his shoulders, wiping that thought away. Jim came first and he was needed. 

“Can’t tonight,” he half-said, half-grunted. 

“Why not?” 

“Got stuff with Jim.” 

“Of course,” Newt said, coming to his rescue. “I think it’s ever so good of you to support him in his time of need.” 

Sebastian nodded, but Sophie did not look at all convinced. She gave Sebastian a suspicious look which he immediately glanced away from. 

“What’s the matter?” she demanded later, when she and Sebastian were waiting in the lunch queue. 

“Nothing.” 

“You look terrible, Sebastian.” 

“I’m just tired,” Seb insisted, eyes on the ground. He kept transferring his coins from hand to hand, jingling them every so often with impatience. Everything was going too slowly. The people in front needed to hurry the fuck up and order their food, or Sebastian would have to teach them not to waste his time. 

No, he immediately thought to himself. Calm down. Deep breaths. 

“And you didn’t punch Isaac when he called you a wanker,” Sophie reminded him. “That means there’s got to be something wrong.” 

“Well you punched him for me,” Seb pointed out. 

“Only after I knew you weren’t going to do anything. I hate to see him getting cocky. Did you know he called Newt a ‘nancy boy’ the other day?” 

“Out of order,” Sebastian commented, trying to get involved in the conversation with his usual gruff enthusiasm. 

“Newt says he doesn’t mind, but I think it must hurt his feelings. It used to hurt my feelings when they said things about me being a girl.” 

“Nothing wrong with being a girl,” Seb offered again, eyeing the chips and burgers in front of him and willing the people in front not to order the last beef one. The smell of smoke wafted out from behind the counter where the school kitchen was, and Sebastian felt his brain ache with remembrance. 

“Exactly. That’s what I think now, but back then, no. I thought it was horrid.” 

“Look, Soph,” Sebastian put in quickly as his stomach lurched. “Could you get me some chips?” He handed her his money. “I’ve gotta run. Not feeling great. Sorry…” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“I’ve been so bored,” Jim greeted Sebastian as the older boy shuffled into the bedroom. He looked like a zombie, which was mildly disappointing to Jim. He had hoped he’d be a little brighter about the whole thing. Still, he supposed not everyone had his own natural aptitude for business and getting things done. At least Sebastian had been obedient. 

“Cancelled boxing and swimming,” Sebastian told Jim in a low voice, slumping down on his bunk and then grimacing as he landed on wet sheets. 

“I washed them,” Jim said, by way of explanation. “Didn’t dry them, though. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.” 

“Why d’you wash these?” 

“I could hardly have taken your little arsonist outfit out on its own,” Jim informed him, as though this was obvious. “Oh, and Dawn knows you have wet dreams.” 

Sebastian was feeling too heavy to even sit up. He instead raised his head slightly and then quirked an eyebrow, demanding an explanation. 

“It had to be done,” Jim reasoned. “And it was the perfect cover. You have to admit it makes sense.” 

“Fucking dick move,” Sebastian grumbled, although he still didn’t bother to get up. 

“Now, now, don’t be grumpy,” Jim reprimanded him. “We have a job to do. I’ve made plans.” 

“Go on.” 

“I want one third of the profits from Paul’s group. And that’s as well as compensation for what happened to me while in their employment.” 

Sebastian looked at Jim as though he was mad. How could be possibly talk about what happened as though it was just business? Like it was a deal gone wrong. Like he’d been tricked instead of betrayed and left to suffer terror and agony. 

“What?” Jim asked, noticing Seb’s expression. “You didn’t think we could kill them too? That would be waaaay too suspicious.”

“I want to kill them.” 

Jim smiled.

“Well you can’t, so put it out of your mind. Don’t get carried away now, Sebby. I know it must be terribly exciting to have made your first kill, but I don’t want you getting too far ahead of me. Is that clear?”

“What are you on about?” 

“Well, I have to win.” 

“This isn’t a game.” 

“Everything is a game. And I’m going to win,” Jim insisted.

“How?”

“You’ll see. Now, look over there. I saved you a biscuit.” 

Sebastian barely glanced at the biscuit lovingly placed on the desk for him.

“Not hungry.” 

Jim frowned, extremely irritated that his generosity wasn’t going to be remarked upon. 

“You’ll eat it, or I’ll never bother myself to steal you any again.”

“Sorry,” Seb mumbled, sitting up. He obediently reached out to take the chocolate digestive off the desk. He crammed it into his mouth and finished it without much time to chew, swallowing the thing almost whole with a massive gulp. 

“Now,” Jim continued, padding across the room to perch on Sebastian’s lap. Sebastian noticed the awkward way he settled but didn’t comment on it. “I need you to help me in a week or so once I’m back at school.” 

“What d’you need doing?” 

“So obedient,” Jim praised. Sitting on Sebastian’s lap was getting uncomfortable though, so he slipped off and lay down instead with his head resting on one of Sebastian’s thighs. “It’s easy really. You just have to do exactly as I tell you. I don’t even suppose you’ll need to talk.” 

“So I’m there for moral support?” 

“Well, yes. I suppose it would help my cause if I have a big strong scary friend with me.” 

“Scary? Come off it. I’m not scary all the time.” 

“But you are to people that don’t know you,” Jim pointed out. “Have you seen yourself recently? Now, not only have you broken bones, but you’ve probably burned the skin right off someone.” 

Sebastian nodded. He wasn’t going to feel sorry for what he’d done to Stanley Benson. He’d deserved everything he got. 

“Plus, you just have a tough look about you,” Jim added, reaching up to poke playfully at Sebastian’s jaw. “And then you have all your scars, and your eyes narrow when you’re annoyed, and you have rough hands.” 

Seb looked a bit surprised and then glanced at one of his palms, having never noticed that before. “Do I?” 

“Yes, look at mine,” Jim insisted, shoving one of his own pale hands in front of Sebastian’s face. “Mine don’t have any scratchy bits on them, my nails aren’t bitten right down, they don’t have any hair on them, and they’re soft. Feel.” 

The blond raised an eyebrow but obediently took hold of Jim’s hand. Jim’s palm was smooth and slightly clammy. It still felt childish. 

“Why’re we talking about hands again?” Seb asked. 

“Because I’ve been thinking. Your hands are far too big, really.” 

Seb looked embarrassed. “Right, well, I can hardly help that.” 

Jim ignored Sebastian, his eyes going distant as he spoke in a whisper. 

“His hands had fatter fingers and too many veins, and his nails were long,” he mused, stroking Sebastian’s hand and then bringing it to his lips so he could kiss it. 

“Jim?” 

“And I thought it would be okay,” Jim continued. “Because in ways he was you. But he turned out not to be you at all. Nobody is. You’re the only one alive and I have you. And if there were others I’d have to hack them to pieces. Or feed them to the ants.”

“You’re alright,” Sebastian mumbled, stroking Jim’s hair lightly with his free hand. “You’re alright, Jim.” 

Jim blinked up at him, eyes unseeing. “But if you had to pick a way to get rid of the imposters, how would you do it?” Jim asked. 

Sebastian had no idea what Jim was on about, the only thing he was certain of was that what had happened to him was going to set Jim back a hell of a long way in terms of recovery. He’d been doing okay, he really had, what with the new meds for psychosis. But now he was back to talking nonsense. Sebastian wondered if Jim would ever grow out of this, or if it was just Jim, and something Seb would have to learn to deal with. As he got older and older it seemed more likely to be something inherently part of Jim that would only worsen with age and circumstances.

“Imposters?” 

“The other people I might think are you.” 

“I suppose I’d just have to test them,” Sebastian said eventually, trying his best to answer Jim’s illogical and nonsensical questions with reasonable responses. “Maybe have a question with a certain answer that only I’d know.” 

Jim sighed. “Yes, that’s clever, ‘Bastian. Let’s make a question up right now,” he instructed imploringly. 

“What do only we know about me?” 

“You should tell me a new secret,” Jim suggested eagerly. “If you tell me a new secret then it’s all foolproof. Just like I want.” 

“I don’t have any secrets,” Sebastian lied. 

“Don’t you try to trick me, Sebby. That’s unwise,” Jim said, wagging his finger from side to side.

“I don’t know.” 

“How about… your scariest dream? Your worst nightmare. What is it?” 

Sebastian screwed up his features, trying to think of his worst nightmare. It wasn’t as simple as it seemed, since his dreams tended to shift and warp from subject to subject. Often they involved Jim, Ben or his father. Occasionally he’d dream about wars, Hell, floods and even clowns. 

“S’pose,” he mumbled. “I s’pose my worst nightmare is failing at stuff. Letting people down.” 

Jim gave a little sigh of agreement, as though he’d been proved right about something. “Good boy. So next time I’m worried I’ll just ask ‘what are you scared of?’ and you’ll have to say ‘failing’. “

“Okay,” Sebastian said, nodding. His blue eyes were so tired and completely filled up with Jim. The tiny boy draped over him like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. Despite what everyone said, maybe it was.


	42. Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim takes Sebastian with him for a visit to his school where he intends to meet with Carrie to talk business.

Jim’s school was different to what Sebastian had expected. It was large and looming and obviously high tech, filled with the latest gadgets and equipment. It was spotlessly clean in the corridors with no sign of chewed up and spat out gum like in Seb’s school or graffiti scrawled pointlessly and rebelliously on the walls. The posters were laminated or mounted in frames, all about societies or revision timetables. At Sebastian’s school the posters were ripped and scribbled on, stupid cartoon penises added to everything possible, just because the younger kids found it amusing. Until now Seb had been fairly proud of his grammar school, but this really put things into perspective. This was a school turning out the geniuses and business people of the future. It made Seb feel tiny.

It seemed like a university because the students did mostly their own thing. Instead of sitting in classes together, girls and boys strolled around on their own, clutching books and folders, most muttering to themselves or looking preoccupied. The rooms that Sebastian managed to peer into had only one or two students in and they were busy scrawling things down or typing away at computers. They didn’t seem to mind or notice the fact that an unknown boy was strolling around the grounds looking vaguely awestruck and confused.

The grounds weren’t large but they were well kept, with a few posh benches scattered about with dedications to previous students on them. There were marble statues too, which Sebastian quite enjoyed looking at, but Jim frowned at him and tugged him away, trotting along with the same confidence and single minded pace of all the other people that attended the school. They all seemed immune to the beauty of the place and the scale of it. 

Jim led Sebastian into a large hall and up a posh staircase with twisted metal bars decorated with the occasional sculpted flower. Seb felt bad for treading all over the red carpet with his scuffed up and muddy school shoes, but it couldn’t be helped. He had a job to do. 

“Where are we going?” Seb asked quietly as they headed down a long and gloomy corridor with portraits adorning the walls, eyes following the two boys as they made their progress. 

“This wing is where we usually meet up,” Jim answered vaguely. “You’re not scared are you? Please don’t tell me you think it’s haunted. That’s just a rumour. I’ve never seen a ghost here.”

Sebastian sniffed indignantly, but felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. This was the sort of place you’d imagine seeing on Scooby Doo. How had Jim failed to mention he went to school in some fucking renovated mansion?

Lengthening his strides to keep up with Jim who was scurrying ahead, Sebastian glanced around again. What was missing here? 

“Teachers,” Seb announced. “Where are the teachers? I haven’t seen any yet.” 

“Oh, they tutor students one on one. There’s a schedule,” Jim told Sebastian airily, waving his hand about. “We go to them, not vice versa. They’re understaffed and besides, we’re cleverer than most of them.”

Nodding Sebastian followed and kept his mouth shut for the rest of the brisk walk. At his school there were always teachers dotted around ready with sarcastic comments and pens to sign uniform cards. Seb was always in trouble for not having enough stripes on his tie and having his top button undone.

As the corridor opened out again into a set of passages, Sebastian was relieved to see a large window letting light into the building. Jim scowled as the sunlight hit his face and then pointed at a door on the left. 

“Now, Sebastian, this is where Carrie works. She’s very clever, of course, but not as clever as me. Don’t speak unless I prompt you, and don’t hit her unless you absolutely have to. Do you have what I gave you?” 

Sebastian nodded his head and patted at the large pocket of his grey hoodie, which he was wearing over his school uniform. 

“Good. Now don’t be upset by what I say. I have to do it or this will never work. Just look scary and follow my orders. Are you ready?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good.” 

Jim knocked on the door in an odd rhythm and then turned the doorknob, opening the large door onto a medium-sized room with only one occupant. A freckled girl with long ginger plaits sat at a desk in the centre of the space. She had been writing, but she looked up when Jim entered the room. Her expression, as far as Seb could see, looked vaguely concerned for a split second, before she changed it to a half smile. Then she spotted Sebastian and her eyes narrowed. 

“Who’s this, Jim?” she demanded, getting up from her desk and throwing her plaits over her shoulders. 

Sebastian was surprised by the voice that came out of Jim’s mouth and for a moment looked stupidly back at the door to see where it had come from. 

“Just my friend,’ he snivelled, sounding like an entirely different person. “I didn’t want to come on my own. I got scared.” 

Carrie huffed and surveyed Sebastian distrustfully. 

“We don’t permit other people. He shouldn’t even be here,” she told Jim strictly, pointing at Sebastian as though he wasn’t a person at all, but an irritating pet brought in on show. 

Jim mumbled something incoherent and then shuffled from foot to foot, shoulders slumped with nervousness. “I was scared,” he repeated. 

Carrie kept her eyes on Sebastian for a couple more seconds and then huffed. Apparently he didn’t even merit proper acknowledgment. 

“What have you come here for, Jim? Paul didn’t schedule a meeting with you, and I’ve got things I need to be doing.” 

Jim made a noise dangerously close to a whimper and then patted Sebastian on the arm. Seb sniffed and pressed the button. 

“You know the job you sent me on? Well I got hurt. I didn’t like it. I needed to tell someone. I thought I should tell you…” 

Carrie gave a fixed smile and tried to look sisterly. “I’m sorry you got hurt, Jim, but I’m not sure I can help you. Perhaps you might try seeing Georgia?” 

“No…n-no… you don’t understand,” Jim faltered, tears appearing in his dark eyes as he moved towards Carrie on shaky legs. “The man… he h-hurt me. Was that supposed to happen? Why didn’t you warn me?”

Carrie frowned. “Now, Jim. I didn’t realise you were a baby. You were given the job because you were the best for it. You got paid well, didn’t you? Two hundred pounds is a lot to be offered for a single session.” 

“But you didn’t tell me what was going to happen… I thought I was just delivering things for you, like you wanted… but he did things…” 

“Well, I have to say,” Carrie said slyly, ignoring Sebastian’s death glare from across the room. “I thought you were better than this, Jim. You’re one of the smartest, and I thought you were one of the most grown up. I’m disappointed.” 

“I am one of the smartest,” Jim declared, with just a trace of his usual defiance underneath those words. “But you didn’t warn me. He took me to a room and… did things.” 

Carrie closed her text book and sat on her desk, crossing her legs.

“Don’t you think we’ve all made sacrifices here?” she asked in a soft voice. “Of course we have. It’s necessary in business. If you really were as intelligent as you say, you’d have known that. Now, if you think you’re not good enough for the job, I suppose we can get someone else. But I’m afraid that means you’ll no longer have a place in the group. It’s the rules. We all have to do things we don’t want.” 

Jim shivered on the spot. “But I don’t want the others to h-hurt me again like they used to…”

“Exactly,” Carrie said cheerfully. “Which is why you need to suck it up and get on with things. If you want us to protect you then you’ll have to do as you’re asked. There’s a second visit planned on Thursday, which I’ve got you down for. Similar things will be expected. Are you going to prove your intelligence?”

“I…I’m not sure,” Jim faltered, acting so young and vulnerable that Sebastian wanted to stalk right over and give him a tight hug. He didn’t dare do that though. It would ruin Jim’s plan. He wouldn’t allow himself to look this helpless in front of other people unless there was a bloody good reason for it. 

“I can give you more money?” Carrie volunteered sweetly. “I know it’s a horrid job, but someone has to do it, and you’re the best, Jim.”

“I’m the best?” Jim repeated, expression full of wonder. 

“Mr. Benson liked you a lot. He told me you were the best he’d had in ages, that you barely even scratched at him.” 

Sebastian was so close to knocking Carrie out that he had to bite his tongue so hard he drew blood. Restraint was important in a soldier, he reminded himself. The moment had to be perfect. He needed orders from above. 

“But… I was a little scared,” Jim said quietly, lowering his eyes. “He was so b-big and he hit me quite a lot. And then he… he did terrible things. Dirty things…”

“It won’t be him this time. It will be someone nicer,” Carrie reassured him. “This one used to be a teacher, so he’ll be kind to you.”

Jim swallowed. “But will he try and… do things?” 

“Things?”

Jim nodded his head shyly and played with his own fingers.

“Well this one… he touched me and did things that were bad…”

Carrie gave a laugh that was supposed to be gentle, but made Sebastian’s stomach lurch with violent hatred. “Oh, Jim,” she sighed, pretending to be his friend. “If you didn’t want him to touch you like that, you only had to say no!”

“But I tried… I told him to stop and he wouldn’t. I shouted… He w-wouldn’t…”

“Did you say ‘no’ very firmly and clearly?” Carrie interrupted, leaving Jim looking lost and completely disorientated. 

Jim shook his head. 

“Then really you should have said that, shouldn’t you? Mr. Benson probably thought you were having fun or that you were playing. How was he supposed to know?” 

Sebastian was sorely tempted to start shouting by this point. He should have known because he was a fucking adult and Jim was a kid. This whole situation was fucked up, and to hear Carrie trying to force the blame on Jim was enough to make Sebastian want to tear off her stupid freckled limbs. In his head he didn’t kill her quickly, he drew it out. Arm first, popped out of its socket. He’d leave her to bleed out as he broke her legs, maybe take a few fingers…

“Was I the first person you sent to see him?” Jim asked in a clear but fragile voice.

“No. There were others. And they coped just fine!” Carrie said brightly. 

“How much did he pay you? To touch me?” 

“Not an awful lot. A thousand or so.” 

“Did Paul know?” 

Sensing an opportunity to rid herself of responsibility, Carrie nodded, as though the thought had just occurred to her. 

“Yes, he did. In fact, he should really have let us know about what Mr. Benson was like, shouldn’t he? I wonder why he didn’t…”

Fucking cunt liar, Sebastian fumed inside his head. This school was a mess. The students were all fucking psychopaths, out for a profit, happy to chuck the others under a bus for their own gain. He’d never have done that to Jim. Not in a million years. Even villains had loyalty, Sebastian had thought, but apparently not here. It was every man or woman for themselves. 

“So Paul knew Mr. Benson was going to touch me too?” 

“Yes,” Carrie said swiftly. “In fact, it was mostly Paul’s idea. He doesn’t think about things the way I do. If only he’d let me know the details and I could have helped you, Jim. I’m so, so sorry about what happened. But next time, you can have five hundred, how about that? That’s half the payment for the whole job.” 

“You want to pay me to get touched by men again? You want to pay me so they can ‘play’ with me?” 

Play? Fucking play? Sebastian felt his upper lip curling against his will. 

“Think about it,” Carrie said. “It would only be an hour of your time, and I’m sure the others wouldn’t be as rough as Mr. Benson was. In fact, if you did well, Paul and I might even consider stopping Georgia from calling you a ‘freak.’ Would you like that? For us to protect you?” 

Jim nodded his head shyly. “Yes please, Carrie. But I don’t want the men to hurt me again. Last time I was sore and I got scared.” 

“And you won’t be telling anyone else about this, will you, Jim?” Carrie said firmly. “Nor will your friend?” 

“What would happen if I did?” Jim whispered, looking conflicted. 

Carrie put on a sad face, as though she was regretful. “I’m afraid our policy is that we’d have to send people after you. I would hate that to happen to you, Jim, but it happened to Peter, and it’s happened to a lot of others. It wouldn’t be fair to give you special treatment, would it?” 

Jim swallowed and shook his head. “N-no, Carrie…”

“Then that’s settled. I’ll sort out a meeting with Mr. Allan for next week and you two can get to know each other better.” 

“So it’s sorted?” Jim asked, tone changing slightly. “Just like that?” On ‘that’ he clicked his fingers, and Sebastian followed his order with a dark grimace. She’d walked right into that one, fucking idiot. Served her right. Sebastian would have given up his entire book collection just to spend two minutes beating her up. 

“Sorted,” Carrie agreed sweetly. 

Jim went very still and Sebastian held his breath. He couldn’t see Jim’s face, but the moment it changed was pinpointed by Carrie’s wavering expression, the way she took a half step back in surprise and sudden regret. 

“Well, that was a marvelous performance,” Jim crowed, spinning slightly to shoot a grin at Sebastian. A grin that meant ‘see how good I am?’ 

Jim clapped his hands slowly a couple of times and then tilted his head to one side. It was like watching an actor, slipping into a role easily. This was a stereotypical pantomime villain, radiating ‘bad’ with every movement. Seb had seen this Jim before a couple of times when he was getting told off, but he’d never witnessed it so fully formed. It was disturbing not only because of Jim’s size and childish voice, but because of the complete conviction he put into completing his mannerisms, keeping his audience (however small) on edge. 

“So you thought you could send me to another little session, did you?” he cooed. Sebastian could hear rather than see his pout. “That was a mistake. I’m not just one of the little people. You can’t tell me what to do. Do you honestly think I’ve been playing a cowering little wreck for nothing?” 

Sebastian’s lips were now parted with awe. How was it possible for an eleven year old boy to sound so threatening?

“You know how clever I am. You and Paul would be nothing without me managing the accounts. But you still decided to cross me? Tut tut, Carrie. Tut, tut, tut…” 

Carrie looked livid, but recognised her ruin was now completely in Jim’s hands. She couldn’t do a thing about it. She was trapped, almost effortlessly, by Jim. 

“Oh, Sebastian, do come here,” Jim called over, and Sebastian obediently approached the two figures. 

Carrie looked Sebastian up and down swiftly, unable to get the measure of him. She seemed frightened, but Sebastian couldn’t tell which one of them scared her more. 

“If you ever have anyone hurt me again, Sebastian will destroy you, do I make myself clear?” 

“And how is he going to do that?” 

Jim laughed childishly and reached into Sebastian’s hoodie pocket, taking out a tape recorder and waving it in front of Carrie’s face. The red light was blinking with a fresh recording and Carrie’s face drained completely of colour.

“Because, doofus, not only do we have a recording of you confessing your guilt and incriminating Paul, but Sebastian won’t hesitate to break your bones. He’s done it to people before and he’ll do it again. Look at him. Is that a boy you want to cross?” 

Carrie really did look at Sebastian this time. She noticed the coldness of his eyes and the way he stood. He seemed unreasonable and far too strong. Strong enough to easily overpower her. Cold enough to not care a jot what damage he caused.

“What, that chav?” Carrie attempted to say with bite. Jim laughed at this and placed the tape recorder neatly back into Sebastian’s pocket. 

“Do you know how long they’d put you in prison for if they knew you’d tried to profit from my molestation? If they knew you supplied child pornography? If they found out that the clever little girly arranged for me to be raped for a price? Hm?” 

Upon hearing the term ‘raped’ Sebastian looked so fierce that even Jim worried he might lose control and lash out. He shook his head at him, a signal that clearly meant ‘no.’ 

“What do you want from me?” Carrie breathed out, watching the way Sebastian clicked his knuckles with barely disguised terror.

“I want one third of the profits,” Jim said clearly. “I want complete protection. I want compensating for what happened to me and a guarantee that my position is secure.” 

“I’d have to talk to Paul.” 

“No, you’ll have to give me an answer now, otherwise Sebastian will knock out your teeth.” 

Carrie took a shaking breath. 

“I’d tell the police.” 

“Likewise.” 

She swallowed, knowing there was nothing else she could do now. “One third.” 

“Yes, and a couple of thousand to keep me quiet about what Mr. Benson did to me.”

“That’s a lot of money.” 

‘That’s a lot of time in prison and some lovely white teeth.” 

Carrie brought a hand up to her mouth protectively, guarding her teeth. She wholly believed the oddly rough boy standing beside Jim was capable of causing her immense pain without a shred of guilt.

“Deal,” Carrie sighed out, hands still cupped over her mouth. 

Jim let out another laugh of triumph and turned on the spot suddenly. 

“And don’t think about trying to double cross me, because I’ll be keeping my evidence. If at any time I feel threatened, I’ll show the police and you’ll be finished. No special awards for you. No excellent university. No life at all.” 

Carrie shivered and nodded her head. 

“Are we clear, Miss Big Mouth?” Jim crowed. 

“Yes.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“That was amazing,” Sebastian breathed out as they walked home in the rain. He had taken off his hoodie and was now holding it over Jim to keep him dry, ignoring the downpour that was currently making his own blond hair stick to his head. 

Jim held the tape recording in his small hands and stroked at the device every so often, fingers guarding it. Sebastian worried that it would get wet and ruined, but Jim didn’t seem to care. He knew that Sebastian would keep him shielded from the rain for the remainder of the journey.

“I know,” Jim preened, leaning heavily against Sebastian’s side. 

“How did you… I mean, who was he?” Seb asked, sounding more awestruck than he’d intended. This only served to make Jim smirk. 

“The character?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Just one I made up myself. I know lots of characters inside my head. I can do all sorts.” 

Sebastian nodded his head, pulling Jim underneath a bus shelter as the rain began to pelt them harder. It looked to be turning into hail, and he didn’t want Jim getting ill or catching a cold. He settled Jim on the only seat and stood beside him, leaning back against the plastic surface. 

“You could be an actor if you wanted,” he commented loudly so he’d be heard over the rain. 

“Yes, but I don’t want to be one,” Jim told him sternly with a shake of his head. “Look at you ‘Bastian, you look half drowned. Bless. And your hair’s going brown. It always does that after you shower as well. I think it’s getting darker.” 

Sebastian nodded his head. “Yeah, happens to a lot of people apparently. Blond kids grow up and the tone gets ashier.” 

“Ashier?” Jim teased. “Ash blond. You’re funny, Sebastian. This is why I keep you.” 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and slumped down the bus shelter slightly so he could sit on the pavement. 

“It’s freezing. You alright?” he asked. 

Jim thought about it for a moment. 

“I’d prefer to share body heat,” he announced seriously. “That’s a survival technique they use in cold countries.” 

“We’re in England,” Seb pointed out. “The weather’s shit, but we’re not going to die of cold.” 

“If you won’t share your body heat with me, I’ll strip off my school uniform and go and sit in the hailstones,” Jim threatened. 

With a grumble Sebastian stood up again and shifted onto the seat with Jim, perching on the edge. This wasn’t enough for Jim, though, because he huffed and squirmed into Sebastian’s lap. 

“You know, you’re getting big for this,” Seb commented, wrapping his arms around Jim so he wouldn’t overbalance. 

“Says the lanky monster,” Jim pointed out. “You’re the one that’s getting too big.”

Seb raised an eyebrow again. 

“So we’re still gonna sit like this once you’re a teenager are we?” Seb asked. “Because that’d get us some odd looks.” 

Jim frowned and nestled close to Sebastian, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. 

“You care too much about what people think,” Jim told Sebastian honestly. “You should stop doing that. It isn’t good for you.” 

“Maybe that’s true,” Seb admitted with a sigh, rubbing Jim’s back to get some heat into it

Jim hummed his response and closed his eyes, clinging tightly to Seb. It was soothing, he thought, to be shrouded by the heavy rain and hailstorm, wrapped up with Sebastian. Seb was warm and he was gentle and he had a familiar smell to him that reminded Jim of safety. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Seb warned lightly. “C’mon. Eyes open, Jim. We’re gonna have to brave this soon. We can’t stick around here forever.” 

“I wish we could,” Jim mumbled against Seb’s neck. 

Sebastian frowned and looked out into the blurred surroundings. His life had become surreal ever since Jim had sulked into it, throwing one of his signature strops and demanding attention and obedience. It was a better life, though, he reminded himself. He wasn’t lonely. He had a purpose. He had his own sort-of family. 

And he was a murderer. 

“Don’t you wish we could?” Jim demanded when Sebastian remained resolutely silent. 

“What, stick around in some stinking bus shelter in the rain?” Seb asked with a low laugh. “Yeah, just my cup of tea, this.” 

“I meant the two of us being together,” Jim specified sternly, letting his nails dig into Sebastian’s neck slightly. “Don’t you want that for always?” 

“That’s what you want?” 

“I want lots of things. One of them being you.”

Sebastian grimaced again. Something felt off, out of place. 

“We should go. I need to show my face at school for afternoon registration. Otherwise they’ll ring home and we’ll be in the shit.” 

“In the shit,” Jim repeated. “I suppose you already are, aren’t you?” 

“Am I?” 

Jim rolled his eyes and whispered right into Sebastian’s ear. 

“Murderer, arsonist, blackmailer, thug, truant… need I go on?” 

Sebastian felt a shiver of thrill shoot down his spine. That wasn’t the right reaction at all to hearing his acts listed like that in Jim’s deceptively soft lilt. But he couldn’t help it. 

“Stick with me and I’ll make you a success. Leave me and you’ll die in the dust,” Jim whispered lovingly.

“Got it,” Seb mumbled.


	43. Another Year Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year has passed for the boys.

One year later and Jim was settled contently into his school life for the very first time. He had three bank accounts, one back in Dublin and two in London, which he split his earnings between so as not to draw attention to the large sums being transferred in his name. 

Already he’d accumulated enough to be able to realistically have his eye on a number of offices, which he was considering renting out so he could spend his time out of school in an environment better for working than the care home where children still ran around and made too much noise. Jim no longer thought of himself as a child, because, he reasoned, he had the brain of an adult, in fact, a brain far beyond the capabilities of most men and women. 

He had scrapped any jobs that had to do with paedophiles as a matter of principle, and now the group dealt mainly in blackmail, drug smuggling, stealing and obtaining illegal materials. It was doing exceptionally well and attracting more business than ever. It was also better shielded, and Jim had enough blackmail material to prevent any of the lesser members of the group trying to give them up to the teachers, or worse, the police. 

Paul had left for Cambridge University some months ago, leaving Jim and Carrie in sole control of the gang. Not only did this improve Jim’s income, but he found Carrie far easier to manipulate than Paul had been. At the moment, Jim allowed her to remain, simply because she was a good face for the others to go to if there were problems. It saved Jim the trouble of dealing with them, and it also meant that if the ship should sink, Carrie would be the unfortunate captain left to be dragged beneath the waves, while Jim climbed aboard a lifeboat so he could float away to safety without a single person noticing. To the others, he was still the little boy with the extraordinary mathematical capabilities that was only allowed to be part of proceedings because he was useful with accounts. He and Carrie alone knew that he was practically running the entire organisation and doing so rather well for someone who wasn’t yet a teenager. Carrie was happy to pretend she had something to do with this transformation and surge in business, apparently not realising or caring that she was setting herself up as target number one should Jim want to disband the group.

Now he had no fear of being bullied, Jim was able to excel at his studies, and although not popular with his teachers by any stretch of the imagination, his tutors were excited by his potential and gave him the latest materials about astrophysics and mathematical theory. He had presented at least four projects that caught the attention of those high up in the mathematical and scientific fields, and he was well on his way to winning a prize for ingenuity. Jim had just missed out on a prestigious maths award to a boy from Germany, and that had brought on a sulk that lasted for three weeks.

Jim had made his own personal discoveries which he didn’t care to share with the other pupils or teachers, but that he spent a great deal of time on. His attention still fixated on space and asteroids in particular. He was of the opinion that there was a lack of knowledge there, and was keen to work out the things that still didn’t quite make sense for himself. He had no interest in helping others to understand what was out there, because he believed they didn’t deserve the information. It was an entirely selfish hunger for knowledge that drove him in his studies, and the aim was to become better than everyone else, even the elderly scientists and astronomers that had been working hard for the whole of their lives.

The challenges presented for his racing brain, both legal and illegal in nature, combined with his new medication had served to soothe his mind. He still suffered from black moods and funny turns, but on the whole he was getting better at controlling his outbursts. He had coping strategies in place for when he felt the need to hurt himself, which he mostly kept to, and had a fairly good working relationship with Danni, who remained his care coordinator. Aside from one danger night where Sebastian had found him staring into the distance with a penknife in his hands, he hadn’t felt the need to kill himself for a long time. There was no point when the world was entertaining him and there was still so much to discover. Perhaps when he finally reached the top of the ladder he might consider ending everything, but that would be an act of triumph, not running away.

Danni ensured Verity was kept on her toes, and the woman was getting more and more stressed out as the months went by. Every so often social workers would come to check on the home for hygiene and discipline, and a few times they told Verity off so severely that she emerged from her office later looking teary eyed, her hair falling messily out of her bun. She resented Jim for his part in kick starting these observations, but there was nothing she could do about it. To his care coordinator and the other social workers, Jim behaved impeccably well, sweet and obedient, playing the part of the perfect little victim. It was only now that Verity realised perhaps she had been wrong about Sebastian all along. Maybe it was the younger boy that truly held the power over the other.

The cooler was, unfortunately, still allowed, but Frank was no longer permitted to manhandle Sebastian. Instead, Verity was forced to attend new meetings and conferences in dealing with children that suffered from anger problems. 

Dawn and Raj were still together, and Dawn seemed happier than ever before. Raj was useful to Jim, because he collected him information and occasionally took him out to lectures at the major universities as a guest. He had even offered Jim a Saturday job at the Science Museum as soon as he was old enough, providing Raj was still working there. Jim wasn’t likely to accept the offer, because it involved having to talk to and help ordinary stupid people, but he appreciated how easily it served to allow him near the resources he so desperately needed. He was polite to Rajesh, and even Sebastian, after some harsh words from Jim, had become civil and then long after, vaguely fond of the man. 

Sebastian had nearly been excluded from his school a couple of times for fighting, although his schoolwork was to such a high standard that the violence was overlooked. He was excelling with his studies as well, although sport was his forte. He was part of the athletics club and competed with the boys and girls in sixth form. There were several trophies engraved with Sebastian’s name in the awards cabinet at his school, which filled Sebastian with pride whenever he passed them.

He had been offered a spot on the school newspaper team as he was getting a reputation in the English Department for his witty and imaginative reports on various school events as well as his flair for creative writing. Despite Jim looking down on the whole arrangement, he took up the job eagerly and developed his own style which reflected the sarcasm which was now a permanent part of his own personality and his cynicism about life in general. There was talk of him being considered to take his exams early along with a couple of the other more intelligent and able students, but nothing was confirmed yet. He hoped this would be the case, purely because it would impress Jim who was practically soaring academically. 

In appearance Sebastian seemed to have been stretched even further, making him more lanky, although he was saved by the muscles appearing on his body, giving him an agile and sporty appearance which won him many admirers at school. On Valentine’s Day he’d found three cards stuffed into his locker, which he’d taken home for Jim’s inspection. All of them were declared soppy and pathetic, and Jim had very solemnly burned them with one of Sebastian’s best lighters. Seb agreed. He didn’t give a shit about any of the girls that stared at him and fluttered about when he was around. Not one of them turned his head, even the prettiest of the bunch. Somehow this only served to make him more attractive to the girls of his year, something Seb couldn’t understand, because he couldn’t have acted more disinterested if he’d tried. 

Jim had lost the childish softness of his palms and his eyes had grown slightly more serious. He’d had a growth spurt of his own, but he was still lagging majorly behind Sebastian, a fact which vexed him greatly. He wasn’t destined to be particularly handsome in the manly, rugged way that Sebastian was, but he had hope for himself more and more as he began to develop an intelligent look about him. Nobody had revealed a crush on him so far, and despite the idea of ordinary people paying him especial attention turning his stomach, he would have quite liked to have had a tiny bit of recognition. His eyes weren’t bad really, he thought. They were nothing like Sebastian’s stunningly blue ones, but they were large and intense. Sebastian had off-handedly complemented them a few times, and Jim treasured his words, storing them for later. 

Sebastian spent a great deal of his free time with Ben now, which Sophie had grown to accept. The two boys mostly talked about sports, and Ben was someone Sebastian felt relaxed around, despite him being older. He still felt a guilty twist in his stomach when Ben offered him one of his cocky smiles, but Sebastian was determined to discard that. He could examine those feelings later. Later, later, later. When he was ready. For now he was content to play fight with Ben, although he always enjoyed their time a little bit more when Ben ruffled his hair or punched him playfully in the arm. He found he especially liked the smell of Ben when he had been training, and the expression he gave him just before he burst out laughing. His accent was one Sebastian could now bring to mind in an instant, and he barely noticed the broken, crooked nose when he looked at him. 

Sebastian and Jim still shared a bedroom, much to Verity’s displeasure. They were quickly turning out to be her most intelligent charges to date. This, combined with their codependency and hormones was enough to cause the head care worker a great deal of stress. They were getting more and more difficult to control, especially because Dawn now worked fewer hours and Frank wasn’t allowed to restrain Sebastian unless he seemed an immediate threat to the other kids. Jim was overly confident and cheeky and wasn’t afraid of pushing his luck. Sebastian acted like his personal bodyguard and made his hatred of her quite clear. Together they gave Verity enough headaches to mean paracetamol was never in short supply in the locked medicine cupboard in the kitchen.

The Irish boy still hadn’t received his kiss on the lips, although he was working on it. Sebastian continued to go to Sophie’s house far too often to be healthy, and came home looking unnaturally excitable and slightly embarrassed. Still, when Jim asked Sebastian if he and Sophie had kissed yet, Sebastian’s snappy answers and obvious irritation seemed sincere. So sincere that Jim felt sure he had to be missing something…

Jim’s treatment at the hands of Stanley Benson was never forgotten, although Jim liked to pretend it had all been a bad dream. For a few months after what had happened, much to his shame and distress, he’d wet the bed and woken up screaming for Sebastian, lower body drenched and cold, eyes wide and bloodshot.

Seb had loyally come to his aid every single time, climbing up to the top bunk, peeling Jim’s wet pyjamas off him and carrying his half delirious form down to his own bed. He always gave Jim a pair of his boxers to wear and then curled up beside him. Occasionally Jim wet his bed as well, but Seb didn’t complain once. He washed the sheets in the morning pretending the action was down to his being a teenager and set his alarm especially early so he could run Jim a warm bath and have a quick shower himself to get rid of the tell-tale smell. Nobody discovered Jim was routinely wetting the bed and months later it gradually stopped. 

Jim’s pride had been shaken by the whole affair, but his adoration for Sebastian had only increased, if that was possible. If he could be so disgusting and still have Sebastian settle him into his bed, then that only proved Sebastian was perfect, didn’t it? Sebastian was Jim’s proof that the world wasn’t entirely pointless, and when he felt particularly depressed, he remembered the face Seb pulled when he was trying his best not to laugh at something inappropriate Jim had said, or better yet, the sight of him strolling into the bedroom fresh from a shower with his towel wrapped around his waist. 

The care home had lost two of its previous inhabitants. Carly had refused to eat for so long that she’d been admitted to hospital and then sent to a special eating disorders unit. Sally had left on a brighter note. She was deemed well enough to go back to living with her father, and she went with great pride. Jim had sneaked into Carly’s old room some time ago and stolen all of her magazines. She wouldn’t need them in hospital, he reasoned, and besides, he liked the pictures of the men in suits. He kept them in orderly piles underneath his and Sebastian’s bunk bed, and he turned back the pages of the fashion models he particularly liked. They were always the blond ones with blue eyes. 

Jim had received a couple of letters from his father in the past year, but none he’d paid any particular attention to. As far as he was concerned, the useless man back in Dublin who was barely able to manage his depression and his young child at once, was nothing to do with him. The only thing the two males shared was a name and some blood. Sebastian convinced Jim not to burn the correspondence and kept them in his desk drawer along with some photographs of a cheeky-looking little girl that reminded Sebastian strongly of Jim. Katie Moriarty was a person Sebastian was fairly keen to meet, but Jim declared that was unrealistic. Secretly he was afraid that Sebastian being presented with another small Irish child with similar imploring eyes and a need to be looked after might split his loyalties. 

On the whole, the two boys were better adjusted and seemed to be fitting better into society. Sebastian continued to harbor dreams of joining the army which Jim was determined to prevent happening somehow, even if that meant breaking Sebastian’s lovely muscled legs right before the training commenced. Jim continued to dream of ruling the world somehow and punishing all those that dared to cross him. And of claiming Sebastian fully as his own, of course, but that was a work in progress.


	44. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim questions Sebastian yet again about his relationship with Sophie, and Seb is well on on the way to a scary realisation.

“Come on then, Sebastian, let’s see those biceps,” Jim half teased, although his tone was bordering on commanding. When Sebastian didn’t make a move either way Jim frowned and beckoned Sebastian to him. 

“You’ve been doing weight training. Don’t you dare get too big and beefy. I like you agile.” 

Sebastian pulled up his sleeves to show Jim his muscles. He’d been working on them for a while now and was fiercely proud of his progress. His arms were well-defined, and Jim longed to run his fingertip over the lovely sharp curves and straining bits. He didn’t do that, however, he just examined and then tutted. 

“Don’t you get bored of training?’ Jim demanded, thinking about his own skinny arms which were so weak they could barely lift anything. Although that probably had a lot to do with his sporadic eating habits. 

“Not really. Ben’s got a load of equipment,” Sebastian explained. “It’s for the boxing. Plus if you exercise to music it helps.” 

Jim nodded. “And Ben is one of Sophie’s brothers?” 

“The one that teaches me boxing,” Seb reminded Jim. “I’ve told you about him before.” 

So the whole family was involved in this indoctrination, were they? All working hard to ensure Sebastian fell in with nasty Sophie. They probably tried to push the pair together. That would have to stop, Jim mused, because Sebastian looked far too happy when he talked about visiting the Kratides household and he was starting to regard it is a sort of second home. 

“Does Sophie watch you exercising?” Jim asked innocently, although Sebastian immediately caught his meaning. 

“No,” he said sharply. “Why would she do that?” 

Jim blinked slowly. “Oh, Sebastian. I think you know why she might be interested in doing so.” 

Sebastian took a step back from Jim and pulled his sleeves down again. He had a fierce expression on, which most would have seen as a signal to change the subject. Not Jim, though. He was permitted to ask what he wanted, even if it made Sebastian uncomfortable. After all, he practically owned him. 

“Sophie isn’t my type and I’m not hers,” Sebastian said gruffly. “I’ve told you a million times.” 

“Then you’re blind,” Jim snapped back. “Blind and stupid. Any girl would be an idiot to not fancy you, and she has you wrapped around her little finger.” 

Sebastian grimaced and then laughed cruelly. Jim tensed up and hardened his gaze. Sebastian was embarrassed and clearly hiding something. He was internally debating what he should admit to and what he should conceal. It would have been sweet had it not been against Jim’s interests. 

“You seriously haven’t got a clue, have you?” Sebastian said, shaking his head and crossing his lovely arms over his broad chest. 

“Then enlighten me,” Jim demanded, taking a step forwards so he was the same distance away from Sebastian as before. Nobody walked away from him unless he permitted it. 

For one dangerous second, Sebastian’s lips parted, although no words came out and he simply breathed before shaking his head again. “Sophie isn’t my type,” he settled on, speaking firmly. 

“No, you’re lying,” Jim said. “Look at you, trying to bulk up. You’re trying to make yourself as physically appealing as possible. You get strange when you come home from her house. You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror when you think nobody can see you-“ 

“Have you been spying on me in the shower again?” Sebastian interrupted, sounding livid. 

Jim rolled his eyes to the heavens and gave a pained sigh. “Don’t flatter yourself. You might not have noticed, but I have all the same bits as you do, and mine are probably better.” 

That was a lie, but Jim delivered it as though it was fact. He had, actually, spied on Sebastian quite a few times, and was both awestruck and disappointed in the differences in their physicalities. There was no denying that Sebastian was practically a man, and Jim still resembled a child. Sebastian had a wonderful trail of darkening hairs that led from his stomach down to his abdomen, although Jim had never managed to steal a glimpse of where they ended. He wished he had. 

“Same bits, right,” Sebastian repeated, swallowing. He looked out of the window into the spring weather, sparse rain and a dark sky, although with occasional patches of hopeful light. 

“Why won’t you just admit you like Sophie so I can let myself deal with it?” Jim fumed, throwing himself petulantly down on Sebastian’s bed. 

“And why the fuck would you need to ‘deal with it’?” Sebastian demanded. 

“Because you confuse me and I don’t like that. I don’t like her. Why do you?” 

“She’s my mate,” Sebastian stressed. “Because she’s a laugh, she’s into the same things as me, her family’s nice, we’re in the same classes at school. That’s it, Jim.” 

“I bet one of your cards was from her on Valentine’s Day,” Jim sulked. “I bet she did it in secret.” 

“They weren’t actually,” Sebastian said, attempting dignity. “They were from Amy Cartwright, Sandra Danes and Jeslin Pryor.” 

Jim let out a scoff at those names and then stuck out his tongue. 

“I bet they’re ugly. Are they, ‘Bastian?” 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and scratched at the back of his neck, considering if he should lie or not in case he got himself into even more trouble. No, it was no good. Might as well be honest. With Jim one lie could lead to another, and it was impossible to successfully deceive him when asked a direct question.

“Look, they’re not bad, just in terms of looks,” Sebastian said. “I think,” he added suddenly, screwing up his features as he considered his statement. 

Amy was probably considered the prettiest girl in his year group. She had long blonde hair and large green eyes. She wore a short skirt that the other boys liked to stare at her in, and she’d been asked out by over six boys so far in the past year. The boys were so stunned that Sebastian had turned her down, that he’d found himself reeling off a load of reasons why he didn’t like her, some of them untrue and unnecessarily cruel. Afterwards Sebastian had felt genuinely guilty when this got back to Amy. Because she wasn’t a bad person. She just didn’t attract Sebastian in the slightest, even though maybe, he thought, she should have. 

When Jeremy catcalled her and commented on her legs, Sebastian had glanced over and tried to understand what the fuss was about. Yeah, he could see a pair of legs. But they weren’t muscular enough, and they had a soft curve to them. Still, he supposed she resembled the girls on the front of magazine covers, which had to count for something. 

Sandra was one of the girls the rest of the boys thought of as being average. To Seb she looked okay. He didn’t understand the strange rating system the boys had developed, and wasn’t even sure how they came to a decision together, as though they all had the exact same taste. 

Jeslin had dark eyes and a curved nose and for some reason none of the boys really talked about her much. Seb thought she seemed like the type of person he wouldn’t mind having a conversation with, but she definitely wasn’t someone he fancied. 

If Seb had been forced to pick a girl out of his year, he’d have gone for Sophie easily, because she was happy to fight with him, she had sparkling eyes and most importantly had a cocky grin that was apparently a family trait. Still, Sebastian had never thought of her in a sexual way, even though once he’d lain in bed and tried his best to. It wasn’t possible, he realised with a twinge of regret and vague horror. Although there were some people that managed to pull that reaction out of him. Not the sort of people Sebastian could ever see himself talking about with the boys in his year. In fact, they were the sort of people he could imagine himself getting beaten up for talking about. 

Best to keep it to himself, he resolved. Safer that way. Anyway, with any luck he’d grow out of it, wouldn’t he?

“Not ugly,” Sebastian said honestly. “Just not my type.”

Jim recognised that statement as true from the look in Sebastian’s mildly conflicted eyes. 

“So you don’t ever think of them or Sophie when you-“ 

“Oi!” Sebastian interrupted, holding up a warning hand. “I’ve told you we’re not discussing that. You shouldn’t have come into the bathroom that time. And you said you weren’t gonna talk about it.” 

The twelve year old grinned lazily. 

“I never saw anything,” he told Sebastian placatingly. “Only your back and then your arm, although I did see your arm moving quite a bit.” 

Sebastian grunted and plonked himself down on the desk chair. “I don’t give two shits what you saw or what you didn’t. Just don’t talk about it, alright?” 

“I don’t see why you’re so embarrassed,” Jim pointed out fairly. “You’re fourteen. I’d think you were strange if you didn’t think about it sometimes.” 

“Thought I’d locked the door,” Sebastian mumbled with a shrug. 

Sebastian had, in fact, locked the door. But Jim was good with locks by now, and he was curious. He didn’t see that he’d done anything wrong, really. After all, Sebastian was his best friend and Seb had seen him naked lots of times, mostly after he’d wet himself and Sebastian had been forced to undress him. To Jim’s mind, Sebastian was making a big silly fuss over nothing. 

“I have a question,” Jim piped up honestly. 

“Yeah? Go on.” 

“Are you supposed to think of boobs when you do it?” 

Sebastian flushed pink, the tips of his ears colouring quickly. 

“Er… I dunno. I think that’s what lots of blokes think about,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders as if to distance himself from the conversation, which was deeply uncomfortable to him for more than one reason. 

“Obviously it isn’t a rule,” Jim continued with confidence, having never felt shame about these topics. “But that’s strange. Don’t you think?” 

Sebastian swallowed. “Yeah, it is a bit.” 

“I’m glad you’re not ordinary like that. I would hate for our room to be decorated with stupid ladies in their underwear. That’s what Harry has in his now, have you seen it?” 

Seb shrugged. “Each to their own,” he mumbled fairly. 

“All we have are your army posters,” Jim pointed out. Although he didn’t seem to make any links, Sebastian’s blue eyes darted up to the large poster on the wall which depicted three soldiers with shaved heads in their uniform, saluting, looking noble and just a tiny bit sweaty. 

“And they aren’t naked ladies,” Jim continued. 

Sebastian felt the need to run from the room, but he didn’t. He stood his ground and scratched his chin, waiting for Jim to put the pieces together in his mind. 

But instead of announcing any findings, Jim slumped on his back and let out a long sigh of irritation. 

“We have to keep it that way,” he commanded. “Even if nasty Sophie takes pictures and gives them to you. They’re not allowed in here.” 

Overwhelmed with relief that he’d managed to skirt his way around that dangerous territory, Sebastian nodded his head and let out a half-laugh. “Understood, sir. No sexually objectifying images of women allowed.” 

“Sexually objectifying?” Jim questioned, sitting up curiously. 

“Yeah, Sophie reckons it’s a double standard. I mean, how many blokes in their underwear do you see about? She says she’s gonna do something about it one day.” 

“So she’ll give out pictures of naked men instead?” Jim asked. 

“Nah, I don’t think that’s what she’s on about.” 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Jim said very seriously. 

Sebastian thought Jim was joking and gave one of his gentle grins. “So you think Sophie should start manufacturing a load of soft porn images of guys?” 

“I don’t care what Sophie does,” Jim said strictly. “But I think the world would be better if I had to see less naked boobs and instead I saw more of the other type.” 

“The other type?” 

“The other type.”

Sebastian paused curiously and then laughed, shaking his head. Jim wasn’t and had never been bound by the same conventions and social norms as everyone else. Like in all things, he’d wormed his way out of anything he disliked, creating his own set of rules that better suited him and his interests. Seb wished he had the guts to do that. 

He doubted Jim ever lay awake at night half hating himself. 

“Just don’t you get too big,” Jim chastised. “Or the other girls will be after you as well. And then I’d have to deal with them, wouldn’t I?” 

“Jim, I’m not exactly beating them off with a stick right now,” Seb pointed out with a chuckle. “There aren’t that many.” 

“There are too many,” Jim said sternly, eyeing Sebastian intensely. “One would be too many, but there are three. So you’d better get rid of them before I lose my temper.” 

Sebastian licked his lips. 

“Get rid how?” 

“Make sure they know they don’t have a chance.” 

“They do know that,” Seb said. “I’ve said I’m not interested. Everyone knows that. In fact, they’re starting to get a bit… I dunno. A bit odd about it.” 

“If you wanted,” Jim suggested nobly. “I could make you ugly so that nobody would fall in love with you.” 

“No thanks. I don’t want to be ugly.” 

“Pride is a terrible sin,” Jim said, tutting. “Why should you need to look handsome if not for anyone else?” 

“You wouldn’t like it if I turned into Quasimodo,” Seb pointed out with a sniff. 

“I would rather have you ugly and broken up and all to myself, than beautiful and lovely with all the others trying to snatch you,” Jim declared, his expression worryingly serious. 

Seb swallowed. 

“Well, I don’t need to be broken up, cheers. I’m not gonna go running off into the sunset with some girl.” 

“No,” Jim agreed pleasantly. “Because before you had the opportunity to run, I’d break your legs.”


	45. Flying The Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is desperate to go on a school trip to Germany, but he doesn't have the cash.

Sebastian came home from school on Friday with a letter clutched in his hands. It didn’t bode well for Jim, who could sense he was about to read something that would displease him. Seb was pulling his best guilty grimace and looking both apologetic and defiant. 

“What is it?” Jim demanded as the paper was handed over. 

“Read it,” Seb mumbled, trying not to wilt as Jim glared at him. Jim didn’t like being ordered around and he especially didn’t like nasty surprises.

“Fine, but if this is going to tell me you’ve failed something, then I’ll be cross and disappointed,” Jim commented importantly as he smoothed the paper out and began to read. 

As his eyes skimmed the black text, Sebastian stood awkwardly by, watching Jim’s expression. His lips were a firm line, and his eyebrows were slightly raised. He looked, when he was focused on something, like an adult instead of a child, and Sebastian responded to him in the way someone would to an authority figure. Jim had all the answers, always, and he demanded to be told about any developments in Sebastian’s educational life. It had been easiest to let him have his way, and now it was an unbreakable habit and pattern of behavior. If something went right, Seb reported to Jim. If something went wrong, Sebastian reported to Jim. Nothing could be kept from him. Although Sebastian was still trying his hardest to keep back one particular snippet of information about himself. It seemed only to be Jim’s hatred of Sophie which was working as an unexpected barrier to Jim’s usually perfect ability to read him. 

“So, what d’you reckon?” Sebastian ventured bravely when Jim seemed to have finished reading. 

The Irish boy was staring into the middle distance, looking as though he’d just got a whiff of something that he found disgusting. How dare Sebastian present him with this? What on earth was he expecting? For him to be pleased?

“For starters, you don’t have the money,” Jim pointed out sternly. “So it’s impossible.” 

Sebastian swallowed. He’d been dreading having to ask his next question, and had hoped Jim might have offered to save him the embarrassment. Apparently Jim wasn’t in one of his more generous moods. 

“Well, I was thinking maybe you could… lend me some?” he asked quietly. "I’d pay you back in installments. I could do things for you in return?” 

Jim gave an incredulous look and then laughed coldly. 

“You want me to pay you to leave me for a week? You expect me to be happy that you don’t want to be with me anymore?”

“No… no,” Sebastian said quickly. “It’s not like that. It’s just… it’s Berlin, Jim. I’ve always wanted to see it. They’ve got all that military history, haven’t they? And it’s fairly cheap considering what hotels usually cost. The school’d provide everything else.”

“And how would you explain where you got the money from?” 

“They all know your mum left you money. I can just say you lent me it from that.” 

“I’m not sure, Sebastian,” Jim said quietly, part of him slightly scared by the hope in Sebastian’s expression. He couldn’t allow Sebastian to go, though. Because that would mean a whole week without him, and Jim didn’t want that. Who would help him eat? Jim might have been a high achiever, but without a tough best friend to scare away the others, he was a sitting duck, a horrendously easy target. 

Besides, he wasn’t sure he was willing to sleep alone in the bedroom now, without the sound of Sebastian’s gentle snoring. 

“Anything you want,” Sebastian tried to bargain. “I’ll do anything.” 

Jim narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. Why did he continue to push? Couldn’t he tell he’d already made up his mind?

“Why Berlin? You’ve never told me you wanted to go.” 

“History,” Sebastian said with a half apologetic shrug. “Second World War stuff. They do tours about the Third Reich and everything. Imagine that, Jim. They’d be telling us all sorts about how they operated, what tactics they used, how they organised themselves, weaponry… everything.” 

“I hope you’re not turning Nazi,” Jim drawled. 

Sebastian furrowed his brows. “Of course I’m not. I fucking hate the Nazis, but I’m interested in the military side of things. I won’t get another opportunity like this until Sixth Form, and even then the trip’s to Spain.” 

Jim frowned at the open enthusiasm on show. He couldn’t understand why Sebastian wanted to travel so much, especially not with his school. For one, the hotel would be grubby and unhygienic. The food would most likely be terrible. He’d be stuck with the others the whole time and he’d be supervised constantly by teachers. It was Jim’s idea of hell. 

“July?” 

“Yeah. Third week.”

Jim hummed. This would be difficult, he realised, like kicking a puppy or a loyal dog. Because he couldn’t allow Sebastian to leave him. Not for a whole week. But now he was going to look like a nasty piece of work, even though he loved Sebastian more than anything else in the world. Why couldn’t Seb just drop it? Why did he have to be so troublesome? It had to be the hormones, Jim consoled himself. Sebastian was attempting, as Jim had long anticipated, to make a break for it. Well it wasn’t going to happen. Ever. 

“You can’t speak German,” Jim pointed out.

Sebastian puffed out his chest and cleared his throat. 

“Ich heiße Sebastian Moran.” 

“That’s very basic.”

“Ich komme aus London. Ich bin vierzehn Jahre alt.”

Jim had never heard Sebastian speaking German before, and the combination of his quietly defiant blue eyes and that low accent was enough to make his chest ache. Blinking himself back to normal, he glared at Sebastian, as though he was being tricked in some way. 

“You’ve never done that before,” Jim said in a petulant tone. “Why haven’t you practiced German in front of me? How long have you been learning it?” 

Feeling proud of himself, Sebastian sniffed. “Been learning for a year. Started off with French, but then I switched. We have to pick a language for GCSEs. German suits me better. Sounds more tough, doesn’t it?” 

“Say something else in German,” Jim ordered. 

“Alright, um… Jim Moriarty ist mein bester Freund. Er ist intelligent, interessant, klein, fleißig, klug, stur, frech und wunderbar.” 

Sebastian was looking nervous and yet impressed with himself, because for the first time he was the one with more knowledge than Jim. Jim frowned as he tried to translate what Sebastian had just said. 

“Jim Moriarty is my best friend,” he said slowly. “He is intelligent, interesting…” 

“Small, hard-working, smart, stubborn, cheeky and wonderful,” Sebastian translated quickly before Jim got annoyed. 

Jim had to try very hard not to look impressed with that flattering description of himself, well, apart from the bit about him being small, but he supposed that couldn’t be helped. But then he remembered that Sebastian was more intelligent than his gruff tone of voice suggested, and he was probably attempting to flatter him into getting his own way. 

“You still can’t go to Germany,” Jim decreed sweetly, reaching out to pat Sebastian on his strong torso. “But I’m glad you’re learning a language. That’s a useful thing to do.” 

“Please, Jim,” Sebastian begged. “C’mon. It’s one week. This is my only chance.” 

“Don’t you dare try and emotionally manipulate me,” Jim snapped. “It’s my money, and I decide what happens to it. I’m not putting you on a plane with it and having you fly away from me for a whole week.” 

“I could ring you every day?” 

“No.” 

“I’ll do anything.” 

As appealing as that offer was, it was a lie. Jim could think of hundreds of things Sebastian would refuse to do, even if Jim asked him especially nicely. 

“You won’t do anything, so don’t say that you will,” Jim reprimanded him. “That makes you a nasty old big fat liar, and I don’t like being lied to.” 

“Please,” Sebastian tried again. “Please, Jim.” 

“You’re getting on my nerves.” 

“Look, I’ll seriously do most things. I’ll do the washing up when it’s your turn. I’ll sort your clothes out in the morning. I’ll take the blame whenever you do something wrong.” 

“You already do all those things,” Jim commented. “I’ve already told you no. I’m not going to lend you the money. Now wipe that stupid look off your face. It won’t get you what you want.” 

Affronted, Sebastian obediently fixed his expression. He hadn’t even been pulling a face, although inside he felt devastated. It was alright for Sophie and Newt, who both had a fair amount of money. They went on holidays all the time, got bought expensive presents, never had to worry about cash. When the trip had been announced in assembly neither of them even seemed to entertain the notion that they might not be allowed to go. 

“There, there,” Jim soothed Sebastian sweetly, switching in an instant from irritated to caring. “We all have to suffer heartbreak at some point, don’t we? Sometimes we don’t get what we want. You might not understand that because you’re so tall and handsome, but some of us can’t just have what we want all the time. You’ll learn that eventually, Sebby.” 

Sebastian’s lips parted at the injustice of that speech. What the hell did Seb have that he wanted? He didn’t have money, he didn’t have a blood family, the other kids at school were starting to get suspicious about how he kept turning down the girls that asked him out, and he was barely scrabbling to keep achieving top marks in every subject. 

“I never ask for anything,” Sebastian said quietly. He didn’t quite sound sulky, but Jim could feel the weight of his disappointment coming off him in waves. 

“That’s because you’re a good boy who isn’t selfish or spoilt,” Jim said swiftly, with a little smile. He rested both of his pale hands on Sebastian’s chest with a sigh. 

That snapped Sebastian out of his trance. He narrowed his eyes and took a step back. 

“Right,” he said quickly. “It’s your money. I get it. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“That’s right,” Jim agreed, wiping his hands on his trousers, his heart aching with sadness because Sebastian had moved away so fast. He hadn’t wanted that at all. What Jim had wanted was for Sebastian to be sad and need comforting. Maybe a hug or a nice kiss on the cheek. But no, there was still a worrying defiance in his eyes. It put Jim on edge.

“I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position,” Sebastian said in the voice he always used when he wanted to filter out any emotion. The poor lamb was trying his best not to show how devastated he was. It was adorable, Jim thought. 

“Hm? Just don’t do it again.” 

“I won’t. Sorry.” 

With that, Sebastian gave an odd half nod of his head and disappeared from the bedroom.


	46. Lenience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim puts someone else before himself for the first time in his life.

It wasn’t because Sebastian was deflated that Jim did what he did. It was because Sebastian was so wonderfully uncomplaining, even after his disappointment. After a brief period of recovery where he pulled himself together, he forced himself back to normal, determined not to make Jim feel bad. He laughed with Jim in the evening and he let him sit on his back while he tried push-ups because he was trying to build up his arm muscles (which Jim found immensely entertaining even though he spent the whole time telling Sebastian he really should be trying harder). He even ate Jim’s chicken for him and gave him his extra chocolate pudding so Verity wouldn’t make a fuss. When Jim overheard Dawn asking Sebastian what was wrong, he loyally said that nothing was, and he never once tried to make Jim feel guilty. 

But oddly enough, that was what Jim felt. Guilty. Like a bad person.

He didn’t feel like a bad person when he orgainsed crimes. He didn’t feel like a bad person when he hurt people’s feelings. He didn’t even feel like a bad person for convincing his mother to kill herself. But he did feel like a bad person when Sebastian was sad and it was all his fault. 

So one afternoon while he was at his school, he wrote a brief letter and then had it posted all the way to Dublin, Ireland.

‘Dear Da, 

I’m sure you weren’t expecting a letter from me, and don’t get excited because I still hate you. I’m only writing because I need you to withdraw three hundred pounds from the account Ma made for me before she died. I know it’s for university, but this is to do with education because it is for a school trip. 

I need it in the next week so be quick. And it has to be in English pound notes.

From, Jim.’ 

Sure enough, four days later a nice fat envelope arrived for him, which he swiftly took up to his and Sebastian’s bedroom to check the contents, ignoring Verity’s suspicious questioning. 

Along with three hundred pounds, was a letter from his father, written in a shaky hand. He was obviously still a bit of a zombie because of his depression. Jim wondered if he was on new medication now, though, because he had to look after Katie on his own. Despite suffering from similar disorders to his father, Jim refused to feel at all sorry for him. As he saw it, people who were useless shouldn’t have children at all, because it only made the children unhappy and with all the same problems. 

‘Dear Jim, 

It was lovely to hear from you. I miss you, son, and so does our Katie. The funeral went well and we put down some flowers on your behalf. 

Write again whenever you feel like it. Katie and I both enjoy hearing from you. Enjoy your trip. 

Dad.’

Jim grimaced at the wording, feeling sick. He hated that his father was trying to act so normal, that he was pretending he hadn’t left Jim with no food all those times, like he hadn’t tried to hang himself while Jim was watching from the hallway, crying and crying because he didn’t want to be alone and was too little to look after himself. 

Sebastian came home later than Jim, as always, having been for a short boxing session. The moment he entered the bedroom, Jim closed the door behind him, gave him a very serious look and then handed him the envelope. 

Seb opened it with a raised eyebrow, half expecting when he saw the Dublin postmark, to read that Jim’s father had killed himself for real this time. That Jim was now an orphan. 

What he found instead of this was enough to make his lips part with confused awe and his eyes blink a few too many times to stop them tearing up. Inside the brown envelope was a bunch of twenty pound notes along with a letter that Jim had clearly already read.

“You wrote to your dad for me?” Sebastian asked, looking touched. 

Jim shrugged his shoulders in a very Sebastian-esque gesture. 

“Only a short letter.” 

Sebastian took out the money and placed it carefully down on the desk along with the hand-written note. He didn’t read that, even though he assumed he had permission. It was probably private, he thought. 

“Yeah, but still. Cheers, Jim,” he mumbled in a heavy sort of voice. 

Jim’s eyes went wide as Sebastian hugged him tightly, his lovely strong arms close around Jim’s body, all warm and comforting. Jim swiftly wrapped his arms around as much of Sebastian as he could reach and clung on for dear life, hoping he could make it last longer if he gripped at Sebastian’s t-shirt. 

The twelve year old allowed his eyes to close for a single moment of bliss, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Sebastian’s body was hard and large and had a smell to it that Jim immediately linked inside his head with safety and home. He just wished he could have been a bit taller so he could have rested his head on Sebastian’s shoulder instead of against his chest.

When they finally broke apart Sebastian was still grinning at him with such lively excitement that Jim almost didn’t recognise him. It was like a light had been switched on inside his eyes. It was only now that Jim noticed now stressed out and tired Sebastian had been looking recently. 

“I’ll pay you back one day,” Sebastian promised eagerly. “Soon as I’m earning I’ll start giving it back. Even if it takes me years.” 

Jim wanted to suggest Seb could pay him back with a kiss on the lips, but he had a sneaking suspicion that that might ruin the moment and Sebastian’s good mood. What Jim really wanted was for he and Sebastian to kiss properly like the men and women in films did, but it was far more difficult than anyone ever told you to try and get the person you wanted to kiss to kiss you back. Most boys didn’t think kissing other boys was an okay thing to do anyway, and Jim was afraid that Sebastian might get angry with him. 

“Here, you’d better take it,” Jim said solemnly, handing Sebastian the wad of notes. 

Sebastian held the money reverently and counted it. His brows furrowed when he noticed how much there was. 

“I only need two hundred,” he said quickly. “There’s too much here.” 

Jim shook his head and tried not to blush. “The rest is spending money. In case you want to buy yourself a treat.” 

“I can’t just take that much, Jim,” Sebastian insisted, although he was silenced when Jim pressed a finger to his lips. They felt chapped against Jim’s skin, and he liked how he could feel Sebastian’s warm breath against the digit. 

“If it’ll make you feel better, you can buy me a present as well,” Jim told Sebastian quietly. “But it’s mostly for you. And absolutely definitely it isn’t for Sophie,” Jim clarified after a moment. 

Seb nodded his head, overwhelmed by Jim’s unexpected generosity. 

“Now, kiss it,” Jim ordered, glancing at the finger pressed against Sebastian’s lips. 

Obediently Sebastian did so, and Jim felt a tingle go right down his back before he took his hand away. 

“All you have to do is get Verity to sign the forms,” Jim instructed Sebastian gently. “So you should probably go and do that now, just to make sure you can hand it all in tomorrow.”

“I won’t forget this,” Sebastian told him with a nod of his head. “Never. I mean it, Jim. I owe you. Big time.” 

Jim felt a grin creeping onto his face and he had to make a huge effort not to properly beam at Sebastian. “Go on, Sebby. You know what she’s like.” 

With another smile, Sebastian picked up his papers from the desk and then headed out to see Verity with a new spring in his step. 

Jim was left standing alone in the bedroom with an alien feeling in his stomach. Two alien feelings, actually, although one felt similar to something he’d experienced before, only far, far stronger.

The first one made him feel warm all over and slightly embarrassed. It brought colour to his cheeks, although it was a pleasant feeling. He supposed this must be what it felt like when you did a good deed, or you did something for someone else. When you were selfless instead of selfish. 

The second one was far more painful and tingly. It was the same feeling he had when he woke up in the mornings after a bad night, wearing Sebastian’s boxer shorts, curled up in his bunk because his own bed was all wet and smelly. It was the one he felt when he opened his tired eyes and watched Sebastian snoring, his blond hair sticking up all over the place. Sometimes Jim stared sleepily at Sebastian for whole hours at a time, as the light filtered into the bedroom. Sebastian twitched in his sleep every so often, and occasionally grunted, and despite looking awful really, all messed up and blurry, Jim thought it was one of the best things he’d ever seen in his whole life.

He didn’t allow himself to get too carried away, though. Sebastian would be leaving him for a whole week soon, and he’d have to get himself ready for when that time came. He’d also have to be very stern with Sebastian and give him rules for when he was away. After all, he didn’t want Seb to have so much of a good time he forgot all about him.


	47. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian prepares for his first ever holiday abroad.

The weeks leading up to Sebastian’s holiday to Germany were some of the best of Jim’s life so far. Seb seemed cheerful all the time and had taken to marking the days off his Star Wars calendar. Every morning when he woke up he’d head over to the desk and draw a neat cross in one of the boxes. Jim noticed that he never went over the lines, and almost every cross was drawn identically. Seb always took half a step back and had a look at his countdown with a pleased expression, before getting on with his morning routine.

Verity had provided a suitcase for him, and Jim decided to take charge of the packing. Although Sebastian was fine with taking the very minimum, Jim knew that photographs would probably be taken, and he wanted Seb looking his best. He’d almost given up on trying to explain to Sebastian about fashion because he was so hopeless. Yes, Sebastian looked good in everything he wore, but that didn’t mean he should get used to throwing on whatever t-shirt and jeans combination he found clean and not horribly crumpled up. Jim wanted it to become second nature to him to be able to select something flattering and simple. 

“It’s only one week,” Sebastian protested as Jim went through the wardrobe with keen eyes. 

“And you’ll want to change a few times,” Jim pointed out, sounding distracted as he examined one of Sebastian’s favourite t-shirts. It was bright red and had a picture of a lion on it. “You can’t take this with you,” he informed Sebastian strictly. “For one it has a hole in it, and also it’s ugly.” 

“It’s comfy, though,” Seb said weakly. 

“Red isn’t your colour,” Jim continued as though Sebastian hadn’t spoken. “Blue is your colour. Black and grey and green are your colours.” 

“What are you on about? How can you tell?” 

Jim sighed and selected one of Sebastian’s grey shirts, plain and simple. “You look brilliant in blue because it brings out your eyes,” Jim told him as he handed Seb the shirt to pack away. “Black is sophisticated and simple, which suits you best. And grey just seems to look nice on you. Don’t ask me why. I didn’t design you, Sebastian.” He smirked briefly. “If I had, I would have designed you not to bite your nails. It’s a disgusting habit.” 

Seb folded the piece of clothing into a neat square and patted it down to make more space. Jim noticed he was very particular about the way the case was arranged. 

“I’m not saying that you look ugly in red,” Jim clarified as he gave Sebastian another shirt. “Because you never look ugly in anything. But I still think you need to wait until you get a tan until you start wearing it more.” 

The blond nodded, trying to absorb this information. He’d never really put much thought into clothing, hadn’t seen the need. But he supposed this kind of thing did make a difference, and despite not being vain, Seb definitely wanted to look his best. He didn’t want people to start looking at him as the poor, care home weirdo like they had in his old school. Already the tides were turning and his initial popularity seemed to be on the brink of taking a dive. And all because he didn’t want to go out with Amy Cartwright. 

“Now, you have to make sure you brush your teeth twice a day,” Jim instructed sternly, pointing at Seb. “And wash your face, otherwise you’ll get spots.” 

“I always brush twice a day,” Seb said mildly. “You’re the one that used to-“

“Make sure you comb your hair,” Jim interrupted him swiftly. “And don’t let anyone draw on you in your sleep. I know what people are like.” 

Seb nodded. “This time tomorrow I’ll be there,” he said, sounding so exited that Jim felt a little ill. “Can’t wait, Jim.” 

Jim was already dreading his week, but he was determined not to let anyone know exactly how scared he was of being alone. 

“Are you frightened?” Jim asked, stepping around the suitcase so he could sit with Sebastian on his bed. 

“Of what?” Seb asked, looking confused. 

“The plane.” 

“Not really. Tons of planes take off and land every day. I’d have to be pretty unlucky to be on one that crashed.” 

“I think I might be, if it was me,” Jim said. 

Sebastian glanced at Jim’s worried profile. 

“I forgot about you flying here,” Sebastian mumbled, reaching out to place his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Must’ve been scary without anyone with you.” 

“I had Darren with me. Although I didn’t like him,” Jim said, resting his head against Sebastian’s hand, trapping it there. 

“I’ll be fine,” Seb assured him. “Promise.” 

“Don’t be silly, Sebastian,” Jim sighed. “I’m not a child. I know you can’t promise me that.”

“I won’t die, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Just promise me that if the plane does come off the runway, or something awful happens, you won’t be a hero. Promise me you’ll save yourself first.” 

Sebastian grimaced as though the idea was unsavoury, although he eventually nodded.

“Yeah, alright. If it means that much to you.” 

“Good boy,” Jim praised. His voice was quiet, almost frail. 

“You say that a lot,” Seb pointed out. “’Good boy’.” 

“Do I?” 

“Yeah. All the time.” 

Jim rolled his eyes. 

“Does it make you feel demeaned?” 

Sebastian let out a chuckle and shook his head. Jim adored that sound so very much. 

“Nah, I don’t mind. If it makes you happy, I guess it’s fine.” 

And that, translated from Sebastian-speak to Jim-speak, meant: It makes me happy too. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

That night, Sebastian, in a moment of kindness and generosity, decided that Jim could sleep in with him from the start instead of join him in the middle of the night, a shaking, terrified, occasionally damp on the lower half, mess. He rolled up his dressing gown and placed it between them as a makeshift divider. Jim didn’t particularly mind it, although he resented the fact there had to be any distance between them at all. If he’d had his way, he would have fallen asleep perfectly contently curled up on Sebastian’s chest. He wouldn’t even have complained once about Sebastian’s snoring. 

It was in the early hours that Jim decided to reach over the dressing gown divide and take Sebastian’s sleeping hand, interlacing their fingers possessively. He was finding it hard to relax knowing that Sebastian would be gone in only hours. 

Seb woke up almost as soon as he was touched, having grown accustomed to Jim needing him in the night and having to respond to it almost instantly. 

“You alright?” he mumbled, his voice thick and croaky. One of his eyes was still half shut and drooping. 

“Go back to sleep,” Jim whispered soothingly, hoping it might encourage Sebastian not to pull his hand away as though burned. 

“Sure?” he slurred, already placing his head back down on the pillow. 

Jim hummed his agreement and watched as Sebastian seemed to drift off again. He went out like a light when he needed to, which was odd to Jim, who couldn’t often sleep even when he tried. He couldn’t stop thinking, not ever. It must have been nice, he thought, to be able to turn off the awake switch like Seb could and just pass out without a care in the world. 

“You are a very, very lovely boy,” Jim praised him in a whisper. 

Sebastian wasn’t quite out of it yet, though, and sniffed, although his eyes remained closed. 

“Wha..?” 

“I said you’re a very lovely boy,” Jim repeated firmly, deciding he could push the boundaries a little, seeing as Sebastian was so sleepy, and Jim could pretend he’d dreamt it all in the morning.

“Teenager,” Seb corrected him with an exhausted grunt. “Fifteen in, what is it? Two months-ish? Should be…” 

Jim felt irritated by what he saw as Sebastian’s blatant snub. Seb’s attempt to set himself apart from Jim. Jim, who was trapped in the body of a child while Sebastian was maturing into a man far too fast for it to be fair. But then, Jim knew, the world wasn’t fair at all. It never had been. 

If the world had been fair, Sebastian would have been his by now, properly and officially, in every single way one person could lay claim to another. They’d be rich, but wouldn’t have to hide their earnings. They’d live together and sleep in the same bed at night and Sebastian could read sometimes while Jim sat in his lap and Jim could teach Sebastian all about asteroids and maths and equations and the stars. And Sophie would be dead, in this perfect and fair world. And Verity. And Frank. And Mrs Turner, one of Jim’s tutors. And Mr Harrow, the school caretaker that moaned too much. And Jim’s father. And Sebastian’s father and mother. And Carrie. And Paul. And Scarlet. And Dawn would get a nice treat like a pet puppy or even a baby because she liked looking after things so much and was so good at it. Raj would be allowed his own museum and perhaps even Katie Moriarty could have some money of her own, enough to live on, only she’d never bother Jim and his Sebastian. Nobody would.

“I told you already that I’m not a child,” Jim said strictly, stroking Sebastian’s fingers. 

“Know,” Seb mumbled, on the verge of sleep once again.

“You don’t know, poor lovely Sebby,” Jim sighed, taking pity on his foolish, strong and oh-so-handsome best friend. “But you will one day. I’ll be grown up before you know it. And then what?” 

“What?” 

There was a long pause. But Jim didn’t ever get to explain what he meant, because Sebastian had disobediently dropped off to sleep again with a quiet snore. 

He was still holding Jim’s hand though, so that was something. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The morning of Sebastian’s departure was calmer than Jim had anticipated, probably because of the amount of planning that had gone into it. While Jim watched Sebastian like a tired out, betrayed and adoring little zombie, his best friend went about his business methodically; checking his case, counting his money, taking a shower and putting on his travel clothes. 

While Jim used the bathroom (only on the understanding that Sebastian wasn’t allowed to leave until he’d had his bath because he wanted to say goodbye) Seb went to talk to Dawn who was going to drive him up to his school where his year group were meeting an hour early before they made their trip to the airport. 

“All set, Seb?” Dawn asked cheerfully as she saw him. She was eating a piece of toast at the kitchen table. Sebastian could tell she was much happier with her life now. She’d always been optimistic and friendly, but now she seemed more relaxed. She had gained weight, but it suited her because her cheeks were warm and pink and her eyes were bright. 

“I just need to check he’ll be alright while I’m gone,” Sebastian said, pulling up the chair next to Dawn. She offered him a piece of toast which he took gratefully. 

“Well, I’ve signed on to work every day this week, if that helps. I thought it might.” 

Sebastian beamed at her. 

“Cheers, Dawn. He trusts you more than the others. Way more.” 

Dawn knew this already. If Verity or Frank approached Jim during one of his turns, he tended to start screaming. When Dawn stepped in, he just cried, but allowed himself to be led back to his bedroom where he sent her to fetch Sebastian or wait with him until Seb could come back to him and hold him properly. 

Verity thought the arrangement was unhealthy, that the codependency was dangerous, and Dawn had to admit she agreed, although she didn’t think the solution was as simple as separating the boys. 

“Glad to hear it. Now, you’re sure you know the number for this place?” 

“Yeah.” 

“If there are any problems, which I’m sure there won’t be, we can sort out a flight home, okay? Raj says he’ll drive me to the airport if you get homesick or you’re not enjoying yourself.” 

Sebastian’s immediate reaction was to grimace because he felt like he was being babied. But then he found himself grinning because he realised this must be what it felt like to have a proper family. To have people worrying about you and fussing over things that weren’t important. 

They finished their toast in companionable silence, until the sound of Jim shouting at someone broke the moment. 

“I’m in the bath, you disgusting slimeball!” Jim was yelling out in his most pompous voice. “The early bird catches the worm and you were too late! If you need a wee then go downstairs! No! I’m not letting you in.” 

“Come on! I need to go!” came another voice on the upstairs landing.

Jim started humming loudly just to show that he was no longer paying attention to the begging. Seconds later Bradley thundered down the stairs and disappeared down the hall, grumbling, to use the downstairs toilet. 

Dawn was smiling vaguely, but Sebastian grew serious all of a sudden, sensing his time to discuss what he needed to was running out. 

“Dawn,” he said quietly. “Dawn, he gets upset at night. He needs someone with him when he’s like that. Just don’t ask him loads of questions. You’ve just got to be there for him. So he knows he isn’t alone.” 

Dawn turned her gaze softly to Sebastian. “Okay, I’ll remember,” she promised. 

Nodding, Sebastian went on. “Sometimes stroking his hair helps, but only do that if he’s sad. Not if he’s angry. If he’s angry you should let him hit something. Like a pillow. And you have to distract him if he looks for sharp things. Just get in the way and sit him down. He gets tired in the end and he sleeps, but it can take ages sometimes.” 

The young care worker took in Sebastian’s serious expression, his caring eyes, the gentleness in his voice which was becoming lower and gruffer by the day. He really honestly did love Jim as his own little brother, didn’t he? 

“Don’t worry. I’ll look after him. He’ll be fine, Seb. I won’t let anything happen to him.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Dawn smiled and patted her bag. “I’ve got a massive bar of chocolate Verity doesn’t know about. I know Jim’s got a sweet tooth. I’m hoping it might cheer him up a bit.”

“I reckon it will,” Seb agreed.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim called Sebastian into the bedroom five minutes before the other boy had to leave. His suitcase was already in Dawn’s car, and she was outside, waiting for him to say his goodbyes. 

Jim was draped in a fluffy, white bath towel, his hair jet black and slick from where he’d dunked his head under the water. The sight of him in what looked like a toga should have been funny, but his expression was so mournful and solemn that Sebastian held back his smile. 

“Come here,” Jim commanded, and Sebastian did as he was told, back straight as though this was a military inspection. 

The twelve year old took a long look at Sebastian’s blue eyes, making sure he had them memorised for his week alone. 

“It’s only a week,” Sebastian reminded him quietly. 

“I know that, stupid,” Jim drawled, although his usual bite was gone. He reached out with his pale, cold hands so he could use Sebastian’s shoulders as leverage. Holding tightly, he stood up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Sebastian’s cheek. 

Sebastian closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Jim, carefully lifting him up so they were on the same level. Jim nestled his face into the crook of Sebastian’s neck and tried not to cry. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Seb soothed him. “Plus I’ll bring you back some German chocolate.” 

“A large bar?” 

“Yeah. Largest I can get my hands on.” 

That cheered Jim up slightly. 

“Be good,” Jim instructed Sebastian sternly.

“You’re seriously telling me to be good?” Sebastian asked with a grin. 

Jim laughed a bit as well. “Well, not toooooo good. Just good enough that you don’t get sent home in disgrace or arrested.” 

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” Seb assured him, although he had a glint in his eyes that made Jim doubt that very much. 

“I love you, Sebby,” Jim told Sebastian as he was placed back on his feet, his eyes large and watery. His lower lip was jutting out childishly and he looked hurt. 

Sebastian gave him a gentle smile and nodded, cupping his face and kissing him firmly on his large forehead. 

“Yeah, love you too. One week. Just one week, Jim.” 

“Goodbye,” Jim whispered, feeling his heart sink as Sebastian gave him one of his mock salutes and headed out of the room.


	48. The Stalker and the Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim struggles through the days without Sebastian.

Almost as soon as Sebastian left, Jim became aware he’d acquired a stalker. 

Harry, who clearly thought he was being subtle, was following him everywhere. When Jim sat in the kitchen at breakfast (although he refused to eat) Harry took the seat across from him. He’d looked like he was ready to sit in Sebastian’s usual place, but Jim shot him such a fierce glare that he seemed to reconsider the action. 

After school, Jim went to linger in the laundry room where Dawn was putting a load of clothes in the washing machine, but he could see Harry passing by every so often, trying to make it look like he wasn’t glancing in and getting a good look at what was happening. Dawn kept on supplying him with chocolate, which was nice of her, Jim supposed. It did settle his stomach when he felt sad. But it would have been nicer to save a square or two for Sebastian, or maybe feed it to him if Sebastian was in an especially good mood. 

“Brings your blood sugar up,” Dawn told him confidently. “That’s what my gran used to say. She always gave me chocolate when I was sad.” 

A year ago, Jim might have made a nasty comment about Dawn’s weight, but he didn’t this time. He stopped himself because he knew it would hurt Dawn’s feelings and he didn’t want to do that. Sebastian liked her a lot, after all, and Jim supposed she wasn’t really so bad for an adult. 

“Your gran had the right idea,” Jim said instead, which earned him a small good-natured laugh. Not at him, but with him, which was a fairly nice feeling. 

At dinner, Harry passed him the gravy, and handed him the salt and pepper before Bradley could grab it for himself. Jim merely scowled into his lap without saying thank you. Something funny was going on and he didn’t like it one bit. 

No matter how he tried to distract himself, Jim couldn’t shake away the sweeping sensation that something horrible was about to happen. He was being spied on, that was for sure, but why? Were the others planning to do something terrible to him? Were they waiting for their chance while Sebastian was gone?

He couldn’t be certain, and so he stayed as close to Dawn as possible. He supposed he had quite a few enemies in the home, for silly little reasons mostly, like taking too much time in the bathroom, being rude and insulting at dinner, and being too clever and making the others jealous. And, of course, he was Sebastian’s friend, which people were starting to resent. Well, Jim thought to himself furiously, he’d got there first. Nobody even bothered with Sebastian before he got tall and handsome, so they didn’t deserve him now. They hadn’t seen his potential. Jim had seen the potential the moment he’d met him and now Sebastian was unofficially his. Nobody else could have him. He belonged to Jim whether he knew it or not. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

On the first night without Sebastian, Jim curled up in Sebastian’s bed and wrapped himself up in the covers. The night was warm, but Jim felt cold all over. He didn’t cry, because the only person who he ever allowed to see him do that was gone, but he pressed his face into Sebastian’s pillow to make the prickling feeling behind his eyelids go away. 

He didn’t fall asleep until the light was already filtering into the bedroom through the cheap material of the curtains. If he fell asleep he knew he might shout out or get nightmares, and that was something he couldn’t allow to happen now. Wetting himself without Sebastian to hide away the evidence and calm him down would have been embarrassing, not to mention he’d be mocked. 

When Dawn came in to wake him up for school in the morning, she found Jim cuddling Sebastian’s pillow, looking pale and distressed. She patted him on the shoulder gently, but it took him a while to wake up. 

“’Five more minutes, ‘Bastian,” he breathed out, reaching out to the space in front of him. When he found nothing there he opened his eyes, which were surrounded with smudgy shadows, and blinked at Dawn. 

“Oh,” he muttered. “He’s in Germany. Stupid Germany.” 

Dawn smiled and nodded. “I’ve bought you Pop-Tarts for breakfast.” 

“The chocolate ones?” 

“Yep. Sebastian said you liked them.” 

Jim sat up and sniffled to himself, rubbing his eyes. He was still wearing his clothes from the day before instead of his usual pyjamas.

“Won’t Verity complain?” 

“Verity doesn’t have to know,” Dawn said. That was quite rebellious really, seeing as Verity was pushing for a new healthy eating regime. Jim liked people that were rebellious. 

Reluctantly, Jim clambered out of bed. Dawn noticed that his hair was far fluffier than she was used to seeing it in the mornings. She supposed he must comb it usually before he came down to breakfast. 

In reality, Sebastian usually brushed it for Jim while the younger boy closed his eyes with bliss, making the most of Sebastian’s careful hands and the methodical way in which he worked. Sebastian knew never to pull on his hair, and he had a way of smoothing his large fingers over Jim’s scalp to flatten the hair that made Jim sigh. 

Jim had the appearance of a small but defensive animal as he strolled around the bedroom, choosing clothes from Sebastian’s side of the wardrobe. He took his time there and then pulled out an old scruffy red t-shirt with a lion on it. Clearly he was missing Sebastian an awful lot. 

“Raj says he wants to take you out to see the new exhibit this week,” Dawn said cheerfully, opening the curtains and letting the light stream into the room. Jim glared at the window as though the sunlight was inconveniencing him, and stepped to the side, out of the way of one particular beam. 

“Is it the one on Jupiter?” Jim asked. He wanted to be eager, because he usually loved to be taken down to the Science Museum, but everything felt so pointless without Seb. After all, when he came home after seeing it who could he tell? Nobody else would listen to him explaining everything. Nobody else would let him drape himself over their lap and give him complete attention as he spoke.

“Yes, I think so,” Dawn said. She almost left the room, but paused as her gaze caught on the lost little boy standing next to the wardrobe. He was simply staring at the ground and clutching Sebastian’s red t-shirt. Despite being almost thirteen, Jim still had the physicality of a child, and that wasn’t helped by his large, mournful eyes and untidy dark hair that seemed in desperate need of a trim. 

“Cheer up, Jim,” Dawn soothed him. “Seb’s probably having a great time by now. He’ll ring tonight, won’t he? I think he said he would if he could.” 

“He definitely will,” Jim said with certainty. “He promised. He never breaks his promises to me.” 

“Well then, let’s get downstairs and have some breakfast, eh? The day’ll go much faster once you’re at school and working hard.” 

Dawn’s words turned out to be true. Jim was given the intriguing and challenging task of finding a certain type of exotic pet for a woman who was willing to pay a great deal. He spent the hours he wasn’t in one-on-one tuition looking up reputable poachers and trying to think up ways to make the transportation foolproof. It was rather a big task for him, because it would mean actually smuggling something into the country, but Jim was certain he could manage it. He was more intelligent than Paul had ever been, and Paul had done all sorts. Besides, he’d secretly fixed it all in Carrie’s name, just in case things went wrong and someone had to be arrested.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian rang up at almost half past seven in the evening, and Jim was already waiting slightly sulkily for the phone call in the study. Verity remained close-by, apparently concerned he might snoop around. Jim did, actually, have the urge to look in all the files, but he knew he had to be good for once if he wanted his nightly phone calls. 

Jim felt like pouncing on the receiver when it rang, but instead he calmly picked it up and held it to his ear. 

“Jim? You there?” 

Sebastian’s voice sounded so close that Jim’s heart gave a leap. 

“Yes, I’m here,” he answered quickly. “I thought you might not call.” 

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Sebastian said, again sounding so much like himself, so loyal and warm, that it was hard to believe he was miles and miles away. 

“I know you did, but I still worried about it. How’s Germany?” 

“It’s brilliant, Jim. Seriously great. I can’t really speak the lingo as well as I’d thought. They talk so bloody fast here.” 

Jim chuckled. “Is it much nicer than London?” 

“Um…” Sebastian paused to ponder that and Jim panicked that the line had gone dead. 

“Seb?”

“Yeah?” 

“I thought the connection was gone.” 

Sebastian seemed to realise how much this conversation meant to Jim and immediately grew serious, talking more loudly and carefully. 

“It’s good, but I don’t know if it’s better than London yet. We’re only in the touristy bits here. Wish you were here, Jim.” 

“Do you have your own room?” 

“Nope. I’m in with Newt and two other boys.”

Not with Sophie then. That was a relief. The teachers weren’t complete idiots. With all those hormones flying around who knew what could happen? The thought made Jim feel both sick and jealous at once. 

“Do you miss me much?” Jim asked quietly, twiddling the phone cable with his pale fingers.

Sebastian laughed a bit on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, ‘course. Although you’d have hated the plane journey. There was turbulence and half the girls went mental. Some of the boys too, actually.” 

Jim shuddered. The idea of Sebastian in some awful metal capsule hurtling through the sky made him worry. He wanted him to be safe. He wanted him home right now, a sudden wave of sadness coursing through him. Jim needed Sebastian to stroll into the kitchen and give him a guilty grin, as though this whole trip had been a big old practical joke. That way Jim could punish him with a bit of a sulk, and then hug and kiss him later to forgive him. 

“You still there, Jim?” 

“Yes,” Jim answered. “I miss you a lot.” 

“Well, I’ll ring again tomorrow. We’re not really supposed to use the main phone, but they want me to behave so they’ve let me.” 

Jim raised an eyebrow. 

“And are you behaving?” he drawled. 

“Yeah,” Sebastian said confidently, but then he paused. “Well, sort of. I nicked a lighter earlier, but I never planned it.” 

“Careful who hears you saying that,” Jim reprimanded him. “And don’t get arrested.” 

“I won’t. I’m good at taking stuff, you know I am.” 

“I know, Sebastian. But I need you to come back when you said. If you end up staying there longer than that you’ll have let me down and disappointed me. You don’t want to do that, do you? You want to make me proud.” 

“Course.” 

“And,” Jim interrupted. “I want you to learn something when you go to the museum, something interesting, and then tell me when you get home.” 

Having been given a task, Sebastian brightened. “Got it,” he said, and then suddenly there were other people in the background of the call. Jim screwed up his nose. 

“Right then, Jim. I’ve got to go. It’s half eight here, and we’re supposed to be in our rooms at nine,” Sebastian told him, his voice seeming to have changed because of his audience. 

“Already?” 

“Yeah, it’s only a short one. But I will ring every day. Promise I will.” 

Jim felt his shoulders slump, but he decided to be brave. Sebastian sounded happy and he sounded safe, and he supposed that was the main thing.

“Love you, Sebby,” Jim said quietly, keeping his voice down in case Verity was lurking about being nosy. 

Sebastian sniffed and said, “Yeah, you too.” 

Then the line went dead. 

He hadn’t said ‘I love you’ because other teenagers were there. Even though Jim could see his reasons, he still felt a sharp spike of annoyance.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Over the next few days Harry became an unwanted shadow to Jim, and eventually, out of pure frustration, stress, and missing Sebastian, he snapped. 

“Why are you following me?” Jim demanded, his fear of the bigger boy hidden behind his fierce tone and accusatory eyes. 

“Bradley wants to beat you up,” Harry explained. He had a low voice, but not as rough as Sebastian’s. It was like he was trying to copy him, and that made Jim angry. He was even wearing hoodies the way Sebastian did, but to Jim’s relief, he didn’t look nearly as handsome in them. Harry had quite large front teeth and lips that didn’t close properly, although he supposed he would pass as just above average looks-wise for people his age. Still, he was nowhere near the dazzling heights of Sebastian and his apparently unnoticed-by-himself gorgeous good looks. 

Jim stared at Harry. Was he an idiot? Was this some sort of threat?

“If you dare touch me,” he hissed with as much venom as he could muster. “Sebastian will kill you when he comes home.” 

Jim made a conscious effort not to back away. He couldn’t look weak. Weakness made you a better target. 

“But he’s not here,” Harry pointed out, tilting his head like an idiot and looking straight at him. 

“I know that,” Jim continued, trying his best to keep up the pretense. He was in control. He was. Nobody could touch him. Nobody was allowed. Anyone that did would have to die, just like Stanley. And Sebastian would do it for him. Sebastian would kill anyone that tried to make him bruised up. 

“That’s why I’m trailing you,” Harry explained after a moment of gawping. He seemed surprised by the fury emanating from Jim’s small form. “Sebastian told me I had to stop the others from hitting you and stuff. It’s my job while he’s away.” 

Jim rolled his eyes with an indignant sigh. Of course the bloody idiot would have set up some form of back-up plan for when he was gone. 

“Did he now?” Jim sing-songed back to Harry, feeling his fear melt away. 

“He’s going to teach me how to punch if I stop them getting at you,” Harry said proudly. He was stupid, Jim was sure, because of the gaps he left between words and the way he frowned before he spoke as though it was a difficult task to use his small vocabulary. 

Somehow, though, the fact Harry was being bribed into doing this felt much better than any other explanation. It was so beautifully Sebastian to organise protection for him in his absence, and even if it was a nuisance, it made Jim feel safe. Harry was just about big enough to fight Bradley, and seemed like he’d put himself out of his way to impress Sebastian, who inspired both awe and fear in most of the care home children. 

“Oh, go and masturbate to the pictures on your disgusting bedroom walls, why don’t you?” Jim shot at him, trying to wave him away with his hand. 

“But Sebastian said…”

“You’re not my friend, Harry. But you’re not my enemy either at the moment. So I’m going to forgive you for following me. But if you dare stalk me again without my permission, then you’ll have to suffer the consequences.” 

“Why not?” Harry asked, looking deflated. “Seb’s your friend.” 

“Because unlike Sebastian,” Jim stressed his full name to show that Harry didn’t deserve to use the abbreviation. He hadn’t earned it. “You’re stupid, and ordinary, and ugly.” 

“But Bradley wants to beat you up,” Harry told him again, looking at him like he was mad. 

“Then stop him from beating me up, but don’t bother me with it. The only person I allow near me is Sebastian. Anyone else that tries to come close will get burned, do you understand?” 

“Burned?” 

“That’s right,” Jim told him, using his most patronising tone. “So you run along and stop Bradley the Chav from hitting me.” 

Harry looked disappointed but he nodded. It was another poor imitation of Sebastian, that bob of his head. After a moment, where Jim assumed the words repeated in his thick skull, Harry headed off, presumably to watch Bradley. 

Jim was, admittedly, afraid that Bradley might hurt him. Anyone bigger than him could, really, and Bradley had lot of reasons to want him broken and bruised. But Jim had confidence that Harry, who seemed oddly desperate for Sebastian’s approval, wouldn’t allow him to become a target. 

And then, as soon as Sebastian came home, Bradley would regret even thinking up the idea in the first place. Jim would be sure to tell Sebastian exactly what was going on and then Bradley would get what was coming to him. Nobody was ever going to hurt Jim again, not after Stanley. Sebastian had promised. Sebastian had told him sleepily one night when Jim was crying: 

“They want to get to you, they’ll have to go through me first.”


	49. Seeing Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sebastian's penultimate day in Berlin and one of his roommates seems to have suspected something dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence, language and homophobic slurs.

It was the penultimate day of Sebastian’s trip, and he’d spent the day at an art gallery with the rest of his year group. He was enjoying his freedom more than he could explain. Travelling suited him, he thought. It was exciting to be in a completely new place where the people spoke a different language and everything was strange. Even the air smelled different, not as polluted as London. And it was perfect army training, Seb told himself. When he finally got old enough to enlist, he’d be travelling all over the place and he needed to be ready to pack up and go wherever he was needed, whether that be in Asia, Europe, or even further away. 

Berlin was perfect. It was, to Sebastian’s mind, ten times better than London, although he supposed he and Jim lived in a rubbish part, so they didn’t see the full picture. Maybe the West End was as good as this. Jim often talked about seeing shows and eating meals in posh restaurants there, and Seb decided that as soon as he was old enough to act as a chaperone to Jim, he’d take him there so they could test it out. He didn’t think he’d enjoy the musicals much, but Seb definitely wouldn’t mind going to see a Shakespeare play. Jim also said he wanted them to stay the night at a lovely hotel, but Seb just grinned and assumed he was joking.

At the Berlin hotel, which was cheap and small, although on a main road which gave it an exhilarating atmosphere, Sebastian was sharing a room with three other boys. Newt, Trey, and Chris. Being close to Newt who had a horror of breaking rules (which made his friendship with Sophie and Sebastian all the more amusing), they’d bagged the two beds near the main window when Newt decided they should get there early, and Sebastian spent a lot of his nights staring out into the bright surroundings, watching tourists travel by, people laughing and rushing about, shrieking in German. 

The German language sounded beautiful to Sebastian. It was almost a bark, brisk and low and to the point. It was harsh but sophisticated, and Sebastian was keen to be able to speak it fluently in the future. So as people rushed down the road outside his window, he tried to pick up as much as he could, little things like pronunciation and emphasis. He noticed they’d been learning some bits wrong in class, letting the ends of words shoot up like a question instead of stay down on one level like the actual Germans spoke. Sebastian’s mind was currently like a sponge, and absorbing this new culture sent a spark of thrill down his spine. 

Sharing a room with three others wasn’t much of a chore for Seb, who was popular and respected enough to get a fair few people garnering to share with him. Sophie had been disappointed when the teachers declared that boys and girls had to sleep in separate rooms, since Newt and Sebastian were her best friends, but she seemed to be coping alright, even if she was suddenly plunged headfirst into a week with the more girly-girls of the year. Sebastian got a sudden image of her wearing short dresses and high heels and wanted to start laughing. Sophie seemed to be made for jeans and t-shirts, almost an honourary boy, until she’d snapped that she was still a girl and they stopped calling her that. She was proud of being a girl, and despite often narrowing her eyes at some of the others when they giggled, she was also very quick to jump to their defence when the boys started having a go. Sebastian reckoned that subconsciously, having Sophie around had made him think differently about girls. It wasn’t that he thought he was capable of being a sexist twat like some of the others, but he knew without Sophie to point things out in her blunt way, he wouldn’t have thought so much about it. 

Or maybe he just saw the way the boys treated the girls, and knew that unless he was careful he could well be on his way to getting the same treatment. Only with more punching, probably. Because the other boys weren’t scared of the girls deep down, not the way they were of Sebastian’s type of people. 

Trey wasn’t someone Sebastian had spent a lot of time with at school, but they had been put in the same group for rugby last term, so they respected each other. Almost all the boys respected Sebastian. Trey was a boy with dark skin and handsome brown eyes, although he didn’t talk much. Sebastian wasn’t sure if he liked him or not. 

Chris, on the other hand, was a dodgy character. Sebastian had sensed right away that he was someone that could stab you in the back. He had good instincts with people and as soon as they’d been put in the room together, Sebastian had his guard up. 

“Seb, you want some cigarettes?” Trey asked, chucking him a packet they’d bought from one of the shops earlier. The owner had merely tutted at them when they insisted in German that they were adults. Apparently lots of kids tried the same trick judging by the woman’s fake sigh of annoyance. She had muttered something that none of them had understood at the time, but Sebastian thought he’d figured out later. She’d said: “What is happening to the youths of today?”

“Cheers, mate,” Sebastian responded, catching it easily. He’d smoked before, even though he knew he wasn’t supposed to. There was something immensely soothing about feeling the heat of the cigarette in his hand, and the sensation of smoke in his mouth. To a boy that was willing to charge through bullet fire in his future, the thought of messing up his lungs didn’t matter much. 

“Newt?” 

Newt paled and looked scandalised, as though he’d been ask to partake in burying a body. 

“No, thank you,” he said politely, sitting primly back on his bed. 

“Did you see Cartwright’s dress today?” Christopher asked as he lazed back against the wall. “The tits on that one, seriously.” 

Newt frowned once again, and Sebastian stiffened. 

“Dunno why you said no to a bit of that,” Christopher continued, apparently not noticing that two of the group had reacted negatively to his original statement. 

“Yeah, well, she’s not my type,” Sebastian offered with a vague shrug, lighting his cigarette with a flick of a cheap lighter, stolen from a different local shop for a dare. 

“You’re mental. I’d give her a go if I were you, then ditch her later.” 

Sebastian was spared having to answer that because Newt got up from his bed with an indignant huff. 

“I think people like you should leave her well alone,” he declared in his plummy voice, although Sebastian felt a wave of respect for him. Newt could be shy about speaking out sometimes, especially against the bigger, stronger boys. He had a moral core, though, despite being what a lot of the others called a ‘posh twat’. 

“You have to admit, though,” Trey put in, trying to mediate and prevent a scene. “She’s well hot.” 

Newt didn’t respond. 

“Seb, c’mon mate. She’s a looker, right?” 

Sebastian swallowed and then tried to focus on smoking his cigarette. 

“She’s alright,” he mumbled. 

“That’s what I’m saying,” Christopher piped up again, slumping down on his bed. “Why didn’t you take the chance and shag her? She’d be up for it with you.” 

“Well maybe Sebastian isn’t up for it?” Newt put in, looking very much like he had been dropped on an unpleasant alien planet. “Besides, we’re only fourteen. That should be the last thing on our minds right now.”

Laughing, Christopher turned his head to Sebastian. Seb’s ears were pink and he almost looked like he was in pain. He kicked idly at the wall with discomfort. 

“You saving it up for marriage like Newt then, Seb?” 

Sebastian sat still for a bit and then gave a sniff, sticking his cigarette butt in the glass of water on the side, sliding off his bed and grabbing his battered trainers. 

“Oi! Where are you going?” Christopher demanded. “Curfew, remember? We’re stuck here for the night.” 

“Yeah, you might be,” Sebastian said lowly. “I fancy a walk.” 

“All this talk of tits got you in a fluster?” Christopher asked. 

Newt attempted to narrow his eyes, but it didn’t really work. Sebastian didn’t think he’d ever seen Newt this uncomfortable. Not even when he and Sophie had sneaked into the art department to steal a particularly ugly painting of an owl for a laugh. Well, it had seemed like a laugh at the time. Sophie now kept the trophy in her bedroom and got it out whenever one of them was feeling down. Even Ben had seen it a couple of times and chuckled, ruffling Seb’s hair and telling him he was a bad influence on his little sis. 

“You coming with?” he asked Newt gruffly as he headed for the wardrobe to grab his grey hoodie. It was the one Jim told him flattered his figure, whatever the hell that meant. 

Newt appeared torn. His loyalty and desire to leave the current conversation had come into immediate conflict with his fear of breaking rules. 

Sebastian wasn’t about to stand around making life easier for Newt. If it had been any other situation he’d have stuck around, but there was no way in hell he was going to listen to Chris spouting shit all evening. 

Trey, who felt sorry for Newt, cleared his throat. 

“Looking forward to the museum tomorrow?” he began, trying to change the subject. 

Sebastian gave him a begrudgingly grateful nod of his head and passed right by Christopher without a single glance. Chris was one of the blokes who’d been on at him before when he’d turned Amy down. Sebastian knew he could take him in a fight, but inside he was afraid of him. Afraid of what he could potentially start if he wanted. Chris wasn’t as popular as Sebastian, but he was well-liked enough to turn the tables if he felt like it. 

Sebastian headed through the hotel in a daze, hands thrust into his pockets, gaze on the ground. He scuffed at the cheap carpet to try and relieve some of his frustrations. That had been too close. He’d been trapped like a fucking animal. Trey was alright, but would he side with him if Christopher started spreading stories about him? Would anyone want to side with him if they knew the truth? If they knew the actual reason he didn’t want to go out with Amy Cartwright? 

Not for the first time, Sebastian felt the familiar spike of hatred for people in his blood. Fucking idiots, the lot of them. So what if he didn’t want to shag Amy? It wasn’t like it was anyone else’s business, was it? 

Besides, just fucking her to save his own reputation was a cowardly thing to do, and Sebastian wasn’t a coward. Yes, he was scared, but that wasn’t going to make him into some scumbag like Chris. 

As he tore down the corridor on the lower floor, he was stopped by a person running after him. 

“What d’you want?” he grunted defensively as he felt a hand on his arm. 

“Relax, Sebastian,” Sophie responded with a raised eyebrow. “What are you doing out of bed? Where’s Newt?” 

Sebastian allowed his shoulders to slump slightly, glad of the friendly face. Sophie was dressed in a tracksuit and looking, as usual, full of too much energy. 

“Newt’s trying not to explode right now,” Sebastian told her. “Chris’s spouting off shit. Asked him to come with me, but he didn’t fancy it.” 

“Chris? Unlucky,” Sophie commented with a frown. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve got Laura in my room, and she doesn’t stop talking.” 

Sebastian nodded his head. The pair of them ducked out of the hallway and into a nearby stairwell as one of their teachers strolled past. They’d both be in trouble if they were caught out of their rooms at this hour. 

“Going alright?” Sebastian asked awkwardly, when Sophie didn’t speak.

Sophie gave a grin. “They’ve tried to put make up on me twice so far this evening. Well, Laura has. Daisy’s actually alright. I never used to like her much, but she’s fairly funny.” 

She fluttered her fingers at him. The nails were all painted different shades of pink. They weren’t smooth, though, which revealed Sophie hadn’t been patient enough to hold still while they dried. 

“Very nice,” he teased lightly. 

“Oh, shut it, Seb,” Sophie responded with a grin. “Call it an initiation test. Anyway, pink’s not so bad. You just don’t want it all over, that’s all.” 

Sebastian grunted his response, not really understanding this kind of thing. Jim would, he mused. Jim knew which colours were flattering on which skin tones and what colours clashed and were never ever to be worn at once. 

Sophie smiled again. “Oh, and Jane likes you. That’s another one to add to the list.” 

Usually, Sebastian would have grinned, but he was feeling too heavy for that. He didn’t get why so many of the girls had to pick him to fancy. Life would be easier if they preferred someone else. It wasn’t like he’d ever shown any interest. He went out of his way not to most of the time. 

Sophie tutted at Sebastian’s expression, but didn’t push him for an explanation. Boys were odd like that, Sophie thought. Far too private. Well, Newt wasn’t, but that, she supposed, was a different story entirely. 

“Just tell Newt that if Chris gives him trouble, we’ll have to fight him on his behalf.” 

“Soph,” Sebastian said suddenly, feeling the need to explain himself to someone, even if he had to be vague. “You don’t think it’s weird that I don’t fancy Amy, do you?” 

Sophie laughed as though he was mad and tied her curly hair back with a black hairband on her wrist. “Is that what Chris is going on about?” 

Sebastian swallowed. “Yeah.” 

“Chris is a wanker,” Sophie said consolingly. “He’s never even touched a girl because no-one can stand him. I’d feel sorry for him to be honest. It’s not like he’s ever going to get a girlfriend the way he’s going.” 

Sebastian didn’t know how to tell Sophie that it wasn’t the jealousy that was bothering him. So he went silent. 

“Slip this to Newt, would you?” Sophie asked, reaching into her pocket and handing Sebastian a folded up note. “I was going to head to your room, but I don’t need to now. It would probably give him a heart attack anyway. You should have heard what he said to me about the bike we stole.” 

“We didn’t steal it,” Seb said with a reluctant half-grin. “We put it back when we were done.” 

“He called it ‘joyriding’,” she revealed brightly. “Thinks we’re hardened criminals. As if.” 

Yet again Sebastian felt a cold shiver down his spine. That was another secret he’d concealed beneath his skin. When exactly was it that he’d become a liar just to protect himself? 

Sophie didn’t notice his discomfort. “You should probably go back and rescue him from Chris now. Come on, Seb. One for all and all for one.” 

“Yeah, alright,” Sebastian agreed with a sigh. He didn’t particularly want to go back to that hotel room again, but Sophie was right. He shouldn’t have left Newt in the first place. For all he knew, Trey and Chris could have turned on him by now, and Newt would be out of his depth. 

They parted with a wave and Sebastian stalked back down the halls tiredly. So much for his grand escape, he mused, longing for the outside world, to feel the Berlin breeze through his blond hair, which was, as he’d anticipated, getting darker in tone with every passing week. 

“He’s been for a wank,” Chris immediately piped up as Sebastian returned looking exhausted. 

Trey laughed and clapped his hands as though something intelligent and witty had been said. Newt was already in bed in his pyjamas.

“Soph said to give you this,” Sebastian mumbled, handing the note over. Newt took it gratefully with quiet thanks. 

“Been to see Sophie?” Chris asked. Sebastian and Newt both shot identical glares at the boy. Both were fiercely protective of Sophie. 

Chris was too red in the face and had brown hair that was cut short. He was large in body, much broader than Sebastian was, but less muscular and shorter too. He was a bully. A bully that liked to stir up trouble for no good reason at all. Sebastian could sense danger. 

“Yeah, I have, as it happens,” Sebastian responded lowly, going to sit on his bed. “Met her in the corridor. You got a problem with that?” 

Trey glanced between the two boys. For a moment Chris looked worried, like he was afraid he’d crossed a line. Sebastian was known for being smart and mostly fair, but you didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. His temper was becoming legendary in his school as was his ability to punch with alarming strength and accuracy. All sorts of rumours were flying around about him, and nobody knew which were true or not. Some said he lived with his father who was high up in the armed forces. Others claimed he lived in a care home and grew up fending for himself. There was even one rumour that Sebastian lived alone. He was a figure of mystery to his year group because he was always so hesitant to give away details about his life. The girls found it romantic. The boys were starting to get pissed off by all the attention he got for doing nothing. 

Chris had never liked Seb. He disliked Sebastian because he resented him. Sebastian, to him, seemed to have everything sorted. He got top marks, was popular and respected, and had the attention from all the girls Chris fancied. So he saw his opportunity and he took it. Trey would break up the fight if Sebastian decided to try anything, and so would that stupid posh idiot, Newt. 

“Like small tits then, do you, Seb? Sophie hasn’t got any.” Chris baited him. 

“How dare you!” Newt exclaimed, sitting up, but Sebastian silenced him by raising a hand. 

“What? I’m only asking.” Chris said with a shrug of his shoulders and a nasty curl of his lips. “If you don’t like big tits then you must like small tits. Amy too much for you, is that it? Like them flat chested?” 

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and inside his chest his heart was pounding with panic. 

“Shut it,” he grunted. 

“Just saying,” Chris continued. “You’ve had the hottest girls in the year on a plate and you haven’t made a move. Bit weird.” 

“Maybe when you manage to get your cock near a girl, I’ll give two shits what you have to say about it,” Sebastian snarled. “But that ain’t looking likely, is it?” 

He could almost hear Jim correcting him in his head. “It’s isn’t, not ain’t, Sebastian. Honestly, were you raised by wolves?” 

Chris’s piggy eyes went small. 

“Maybe you guys should calm down a bit,” Trey cut in, although he sat back on his bed, not looking willing to draw Sebastian’s fire. 

“Or maybe tits aren’t your thing at all,” Chris said loudly, seeming triumphant. He was touching a nerve. “Maybe you like a bit of cock?” 

There was a moment where time stood still. Sebastian’s chest heaved and his blue eyes took on a cold intensity. Newt nibbled on his lower lip. Trey seemed to want to tear his eyes away from the scene, but couldn’t. 

Then the atmosphere broke like a wave. 

Sebastian was on his feet in less than a second. He charged straight for Chris and grabbed him by his shirt, backing him against the wall with a sickening crack. 

Newt made a shocked noise and Trey’s face drained of colour. 

“You want to say that again, prick?” Sebastian snarled, his lips curling. “Go on. I dare you. I fucking dare you.” 

“What are you going to do? Fuck me? Is that what you want? Are you a fucking faggot?” 

This was spiraling out of control now, but Sebastian had never been able to get a handle on his temper. Especially not now, when the situation was so dangerous. This couldn’t happen. Not now. Not fucking now… 

Sebastian slammed Chris’s head into the wall three times, leaving the boy dazed. Then he started to kick him, stomach and legs. Punching at his stupid fucking face over and over and over until he felt hands on his shoulders trying to pull him away and Chris had stopped attempting to fight back. 

He wasn’t able to. He was unconscious. 

“Sebastian, mate,” Trey was saying through the red fog in his brain. “C’mon, mate. Leave it. He was just taking the piss. He doesn’t really reckon you’re a queer. Seb, mate? Leave him.” 

That only made Sebastian’s heart race faster, a lump beginning to form in his throat. For a moment he almost swayed on his feet, and then he turned to Newt for a bit of support. Newt had his lips parted and looked terrified. He was holding his duvet up protectively. 

“He said stuff…” he tried to explain, coming down from his rage. But Newt continued to look nervous. “He said I was… I couldn’t just let him…”

“We should get a teacher,” Newt mumbled, looking pained. “What if he’s really hurt?” 

Chris still hadn’t stirred. He was slumped against the wall, splayed out on the carpet. Blood dripped from just behind one of his ears. But Sebastian didn’t feel sorry. He’d shut him up, and that was worth it. Stifled the words coming out of his fucking pathetic mouth. He was safe for another few hours. Anything to force the truth away. If people found out what Chris had hinted at suspecting, he was in for it. Better to get punished for violence once than be mocked, hated and attacked for the rest of his life. 

“Do what you want. Fucking cunt got what he asked for,” Sebastian grunted, pulling away from Trey and stalking over to his bed. He wanted Jim right now. Jim would understand. He was the only one who would. 

Jim would tell him what to do and help him calm down. But Jim was in another country, a plane journey away, hours from him. 

As Newt scurried out of the room, stepping over Chris, Sebastian closed his eyes and tried not to let the burning sensation behind his lids show on his face. 

He fucking deserved it… He fucking did… He did… 

Should have fucking killed him.


	50. Goodbye to Berlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is sent home from Germany in disgrace.

“’Bastian, I’ve been waiting for fifteen whole minutes for you to-“ 

“Hello? Is this Westminster Care Home?” 

That wasn’t Sebastian at all. It was a woman. A woman using a stuck-up posh voice that didn’t belong to her. 

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Jim responded sulkily. “But I’m waiting for a call right now and it’s very important so you’ll just have to ring back later.”

“Is Verity there, please? I’d like to speak to her.”

“Like I said,” Jim huffed. “I’m waiting for Sebastian to ring me, so you’ll just have to disappear and call back when I’m finished using the-“ 

“Sebastian Moran? That’s exactly who I’d like a word about, please. Could you put Verity on? I’m afraid I’m not sure of her surname.” 

Jim’s body went icy cold. 

“Why?” he demanded, clutching at the phone cable. “Is he hurt? Did someone hurt him?” 

The woman sighed, clearly losing patience. 

“What’s your name?” she asked, trying a new method of getting Verity on the phone. Now she was talking in a voice that was supposed to sound friendly and trustworthy. Jim scowled. 

“None of your business. What’s happened to Sebastian?” 

“I need to talk to whoever’s in charge, please. If you’d just hand her over I’m sure she’ll explain to you what’s going on if she needs to.” 

“Well you can’t speak to her, doofus! Not until you stop using that stupid patronising voice and tell me what’s happening!”

Dawn, who had overheard Jim using his best insulting voice, passed by the study. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of Jim glaring into the distance, narrowing his eyes as he hissed into the receiver. 

“Jim?” she asked. “What’s the matter?” 

“Is that an adult?” the woman asked Jim hopefully. “Can you put me on to her, please?” 

“No, you can’t speak to her until you tell me what’s happened to Seb!” Jim half-shrieked.

Dawn quickly intervened, mouthing to Jim: “Who is it?” 

Jim shrugged his shoulders with frustration and rested the receiver against the crook of his neck so the woman couldn’t overhear. 

“They want to speak to Verity about Sebastian, but they won’t tell me what’s wrong with him.” 

“Okay, I’ll deal with it,” Dawn said kindly, reaching out her hand. She could see that Jim was just scared. When he was afraid he had to be talked to in a certain way, both respectfully and gently, otherwise he became volatile and sulky. 

Reluctantly, Jim handed the phone over. He climbed onto Verity’s desk and sat on it so he could watch Dawn, swinging his skinny legs, face paler than usual with worry. What if Sebastian had died?

Dawn reacted calmly, nodding her head, giving Jim the thumbs up to show him Sebastian was okay. Jim let out a sigh of relief. 

“Yes, I understand,” Dawn said evenly. “Yes, of course. Of course I understand that… I see… yes, I can go and get her for you. I work here part-time. Yes, Dawn Young. Sebastian knows me… I see. Yes, but I’m not in any position to make that decision. Verity’s in charge here. Good… oh god… okay. Alright, I’ll fetch her. Thank you. I’m sorry? No. No, we already informed the school that Sebastian had issues with anger. No.” 

Dawn looked angry now, her expression screwing up, licking her lips like a person going into verbal battle. “No, I’m not condoning it… no. I’d just appreciate it if you wouldn’t use that term. He’s not a bad person. No… I understand that completely. I realise that… Fine. Yes. I’ll get her now. Goodbye.” 

Taking a deep breath, Dawn put the phone down on the desk and gave Jim a weak smile that seemed more like a grimace. 

“Is he okay?” Jim asked, hurrying along beside Dawn as they went to find Verity. 

“He’s fine. He’s been in a fight, I think. No damage to him. It’s the other boy they’re worried about.” 

Jim felt a momentary spark of pride. He smirked. “Well, that should teach them for provoking him. He only ever really explodes when people are being unfair.” 

Dawn looked uncertain. “Jim, this is serious,” she told him quietly as they entered the kitchen where Verity was sitting having a cup of coffee, on a rare break. 

She looked up at the odd pair, Dawn, plump and apologetic, blue eyes wide and worried. Jim with the ghost of a smirk on his lips trotting along beside her in a t-shirt that was far too big to be his own. He really would have to stop wearing Sebastian’s clothes at some point. 

“What is it? What’s he done?” she asked, taking a moment and realising instantly that Sebastian must have had something to do with it. The only time Jim willingly cooperated with anyone was when it was going to benefit him in some way, and he and Dawn seemed to have a shared fondness for the fourteen year old.

“There’s a teacher on the phone for you,” Dawn told her quickly. “It’s not looking good. There’s been a fight.” 

Verity put down her cup of coffee and rubbed her forehead. So much for having a break, she thought, as she stood up and straightened her skirt.

“Are they sending him home?” she asked. 

Dawn made a face. “I don’t know, Verity. You need to talk to her. I told them it wasn’t anything to do with me.” 

“Right, yes. Of course,” Verity responded, taking a deep breath and getting ready for whatever horrors waited for her at the other end of the phone line. Please don’t let him have killed someone, she chanted inside her head. Sebastian was clearly unstable, and the paperwork after an attack like that would be horrendous, not to mention there’d be an inquiry into conditions in the home. Most likely local newspaper reporters snooping around to complain about conditions as though they had the money to have flashy repairs done, as though they had the staff to monitor the children constantly. The government funding was spread thinly as it was, and Verity had pushed hard to ensure they managed to provide nutritious meals. That in itself had been a battle, because the government seemed to think the children could exist on beans on toast for a main meal on some days. The kids hated the new fruits and vegetables added to their diets, but Verity, who had been brought up in a stern household by a strict mother, saw it as a kindness. 

When Verity had left the room, Jim went to sit on Sebastian’s seat at the table, watching Dawn curiously, eyes wide. 

“They are going to let him come back to me, aren’t they?” he asked. “They won’t keep him out there? They can’t do that, can they? That would be illegal. He’s a minor, so he deserves proper legal representation. And they can’t hold him in a cell without supervision. Did she say where he was now? Dawn?” 

“All I know, Jim,” Dawn said helplessly. “Is that there’s a boy in the hospital.” 

“Not dead, then,” Jim mused, eyes darting across the room as he thought. “So long as he doesn’t die they’ll bring Sebastian home. What injury was it?” 

“I don’t know,” Dawn admitted. 

“Then why didn’t you ask?!” Jim shouted suddenly, slamming his palms down on the table with a slap. His eyes were wide with panic and fury. “All you had to do was ask!” 

Dawn sat down at the table and ran a hand through her blonde hair. 

“What’s going to happen?” Jim demanded. “How does this sort of thing work?” 

“Jim,” Dawn said patiently. “I really don’t know. This hasn’t happened before. But he’ll be safe, that’s what matters. They wouldn’t hurt him. Like you said, he’s a minor.”

That reassurance was unhelpful, but Jim still clutched at it.

He and Dawn sat in silence for five minutes or so. Dawn kept twisting a strand of her hair around her finger and untwisting it again. Jim’s brain raced. He was already thinking of ways to illegally smuggle Sebastian out of the country if he had to, although he doubted it would come to that. 

Verity returned to the room with a distressed expression on her face, her necklace was wonky yet again, which Jim knew meant she’d been playing with it, a nervous habit.

“Sebastian’s getting the next flight home,” Verity revealed tiredly. “Dawn, would you meet him at the airport?” 

“I’ll come too,” Jim volunteered, already getting up from the table. Verity shook her head sternly. 

“I don’t think so, Jim. It’s past your bedtime.” 

Scowling, Jim slipped past her. He didn’t even speak to Dawn. He went upstairs to the bedroom to wait. The journey from Berlin to London by a plane with no stops would take about two hours. For all Jim knew Seb could already be packed up and ready for the flight. 

Even if he wasn’t he’d be home by morning. Jim was going to be ready when he arrived.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The boy that entered the bedroom dragging his case along with him was a very different boy to the one that had left Jim a week ago.

Sebastian looked completely drained of energy. He looked ill. His eyes were hard and full of a lingering temper, long past the state of violence, now festering away with a real or imagined injustice. 

He thought too much, Jim knew. About stupid moral things. About plays and books and fictional characters and politics and things that didn’t matter in the slightest. Although it was something Jim was going to allow him to keep, an interesting aspect to his personality. It stopped him from being ordinary at any rate. 

So instead of running up to him and throwing his arms around him, as Jim had imagined in his dreams, Jim strolled towards Sebastian, took one of his hands and simply held it. 

Sebastian could be controlled and manipulated, Jim knew now, by touch. The smallest tender touch to his skin could bring Sebastian back from a rage. Almost immediately Sebastian’s eyes found Jim’s. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Jim asked. 

Sebastian sniffed and shook his head. He was having a sulk, bless him, Jim mused. Usually Jim would have demanded his answers, but for now he was so content to have Sebastian home that he simply nodded. 

“Okay, darling. You have a nice sleep now,” he ordered him gently, using the pet name just because he knew he could get away with it. Sebastian was acting so oddly that he didn’t even grimace at the way Jim had spoken to him, which was probably just as well. Jim liked to pretend that Sebastian enjoyed being called darling. One day he would, anyway. Jim knew all about psychology and conditioning. As long as he was very clever, he could make Sebastian into just about anything he wanted. 

The blond slumped over to the bed and curled up facing the wall. There was something more wrong with Sebastian than just having lost his temper. Something had hurt his feelings. He was acting embarrassed, and Jim knew he never got embarrassed when he injured people. It wasn’t wounded pride, either. It was something far deeper than that. 

With a sigh, Jim decided to take this opportunity to play nursemaid. He took off Sebastian’s massive scuffed trainers and placed them neatly on the carpet. Seb’s feet were getting bigger and bigger, and Jim frowned at his large and ugly toes, two of which were sticking through holes in his socks. Still, Jim supposed someone couldn’t be completely perfect physically. And even as they were, Jim could have sat contently with Sebastian’s feet in his lap.

Next he removed Seb’s hoodie without any struggle or protest from Sebastian, and even put it on a hanger. He didn’t want it to crease after all. 

Taking off his jeans and t-shirt would have been far too much hassle, so Jim sighed again in a put-upon way and shook his head to himself. Honestly, the things he did for Sebastian…

Eventually he curled up at Sebastian’s side, nestling into his back, his face pressed against his shirt so their legs could tangle together. Sebastian’s were heavy and warm, his own skinny and cold. 

Sebastian didn’t fall asleep, even after half an hour. His body remained tense and somehow Jim could tell that his eyes were open as he stared at the wall. 

“What did they say to you, Sebby?” Jim whispered against Sebastian’s back.

He didn’t answer. 

“It can’t have been that bad. Was it about your Father?” 

Sebastian swallowed. 

“No.” 

“You put a boy in hospital, Sebastian. It wouldn’t have been for nothing. Are you feeling guilty? Hm?” 

“He fucking deserved it,” Sebastian grunted out. 

“I’m sure he did,” Jim soothed him, realising he wouldn’t get any sense out of Sebastian for the moment. “Close your eyes now, ‘Bastian. I’m right here. You missed me, didn’t you? Well now I’m here and you can tell me, no matter what it is you’ve done. You can tell me all about it in the morning. You’re tired, aren’t you, darling?” 

“Can’t sleep.” 

“Then tell me a little about what you did.”

“Cracked his head open against the wall. Punched him a bit. Kicked him. Don’t really remember.” 

Jim let out a sigh of pure delight. He wished he’d been there to see that explosion of beautiful fury.

“I bet it was wonderful,” Jim whispered, trailing his fingertips over the straining material of Sebastian’s shirt. He didn’t even grumble or get irritated that Jim was touching him. Something truly was bothering him, then. The usual Sebastian would have pushed Jim away and given him a gruff lecture about personal space when they slept. Not now, though. Now he was vulnerable, and that meant he was refusing to let his guard down. Jim had already guided his mind back, but he wanted his body to return too. He needed to let him out of his shell. “Was it wonderful, ‘Bastian?” 

“Was alright.” 

“Tell me about how you felt when his head cracked open,” Jim whispered imploringly. “Did you feel powerful? I bet you did. Was there much blood?” 

Sebastian sniffed. 

“Bit of blood on the back of his head. Didn’t see it.”

“I’m assuming he won’t die?” 

“Don’t think so. He’s awake now,” Sebastian told Jim. “They almost didn’t let me come home. They didn’t think I was safe.” 

“And why did they decide you weren’t a danger?” 

“Newt and Trey told them I was provoked.” 

Jim raised his eyebrows and inhaled deeply, trying to absorb the scent of Sebastian’s slightly sweaty skin through his t-shirt. Clean Sebastian was lovely, but there was something about Sebastian’s sweat that made Jim dizzy and want to climb inside his skin. 

“And how exactly did he provoke you? It must have been something important to make you react like that.” 

Sebastian went silent. He wanted to tell Jim the truth, he really did. But he was tired and his head hurt and his stomach kept twisting. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know yet. Maybe that made him a coward for now, but he wasn’t saying never. He’d do it in time. When he was certain. When he’d thought of the right words to explain to Jim that he wasn’t the same as other people at all. Even then, there was the horrific risk that Jim might reject him. And Sebastian wasn’t strong enough to handle that. Right now Jim liked to be affectionate with him, and even though Sebastian had to enforce some boundaries, it meant the world to him to be wanted. Jim was like his own brother. He was the most important person in Sebastian’s life. To lose him would destroy Seb. 

“Just said some stuff. He’s an idiot,” he answered vaguely. 

“Stuff? Tell me,” Jim pushed, stroking Sebastian’s spine curiously. 

Seb swallowed and thought fast. He had an answer. A plausible one. One that even witnesses couldn’t disprove. Just a white lie. Nothing major. Just to buy him some time. 

“He said Sophie had no tits.” 

The reaction in Jim was immediate. He went completely still and then his face screwed up in a disgusted grimace.

“You cracked a boy’s head open because he dared to insult your precious Sophie?” Jim mocked him. “Oh, Romeo. How valiant of you.” 

The distaste in Jim’s voice should have been fine. It was to be expected. But Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder what Jim’s reaction to the real reason would have been if he’d reacted so negatively to this. 

“You know what, Sebastian?” Jim began in a cold little voice. “I’m disappointed in you. You’ve let me down.” 

“You weren’t there,” Sebastian protested. “Just leave it.” 

“Are you going to knock me out the next time I insult your beloved? Is that the pathetic weakling you’re going to let yourself become?” 

The words cut Sebastian like a knife, but he stayed strong.

“You don’t get it,” he insisted gruffly. “I don’t fancy her. I was just putting Chris back in his place.” 

Jim gave a laugh, a cruel one. 

“Oh, yes. Because it’s perfectly normal to attack someone for your friend, isn’t it?” 

Sebastian’s expression hardened. 

“Hypocrite,” was all he said.

Jim tensed up. How dare Sebastian compare him to Sophie? How dare he have the audacity to even equate them inside his moronic head?

“I’m not just your friend,” Jim hissed, pinching Sebastian’s back as hard as he could. “And you’d do well to remember that, Moran. I’m so much more than that.”

He pinched until he broke Sebastian’s skin. He only realised he’d done it because a tiny patch of blood appeared on Sebastian’s shirt. Seb hadn’t made a single sound the whole time. He’d just accepted his punishment and gritted his teeth. It was both beautiful and disconcerting. 

“Now listen to me closely,” Jim continued, shifting up so he could whisper close to Sebastian’s ear. “If you dare compare me to her again, you’ll have to face the consequences. Do you understand?” 

“I don’t compare you…”

“Shut up!” Jim hissed, grabbing hold of Seb’s chin and yanking it so Sebastian was forced to look at him. Even at this awkward angle Sebastian didn’t complain. He narrowed his eyes slightly, but that was it. He looked so tired, so exhausted, that Jim almost took pity on him. Almost. 

“One of these days you’ll have to make a choice. Between me and her. And if you pick her then I’ll have to give up on you forever.” 

“I don’t fancy her…”

Jim held Sebastian’s face with his right hand and then slapped him hard with his left, jealousy bubbling in his blood. 

Sebastian didn’t flinch. 

“Now you can sleep,” Jim informed him as though nothing had happened, even though Sebastian’s cheek was red. He let go of Sebastian’s chin and didn’t notice the nail marks left on his skin. 

Sebastian had seen Jim’s manic eyes, the desperation there. He understood him, or at least he thought he did. Jim didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want to be abandoned. He didn’t want to be thrown away and replaced by someone else.

Jim was only twelve, just a baby really. He was alone. He never meant it when he hurt him. And even if he did then Seb probably deserved it, didn’t he? For being a pathetic liar, a failure. He was supposed to be looking out for Jim. It wasn’t meant to be the other way around. 

And so Sebastian shifted his body so he was facing Jim and wrapped his arms around him. 

Jim snuggled immediately against Sebastian’s chest and closed his eyes. For one of the first times he fell asleep before Seb, leaving the blond to stare out at the dark bedroom, gut churning with guilt and secrets as Jim breathed softly against his torso.


	51. Aim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is in disgrace after being sent home from Germany, and Jim spots another skill he's developing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague mention of self harm.

Sebastian had been excluded from his school, and had only just avoided permanent expulsion with a combination of Verity fighting his corner, and his exemplary schoolwork and results. 

“You’re going to abandon one of your students because they suffered abuse in their childhood and now subsequently have mental issues connected to the event?” Verity had asked over and over. Being stern and taking no nonsense had come in handy for once, because her strict lectures and guilt inducing statements managed to just about sway the school board in Sebastian’s favour. 

“Don’t get why she did it,” Sebastian told Jim after a day spent in disgrace. He’d had his telly privileges taken away from him, and was on washing up duty for two whole weeks. Not to mention the apology letter he was being forced to write to Chris, who was now said to be on the mend, his parents not pressing charges. It turned out his parents didn’t seem to take much notice of Chris after all. 

Jim rolled his eyes and sighed. “Try not to fall in love with her straight away. She doesn’t want a scandal. That’s all,” Jim explained. “It’s not personal. I think having a boy here that makes university would get her more pay and/or extra funding.” 

“Yeah, but you’ll make university,” Sebastian pointed out. 

“That’s a given. I was a genius to begin with. You’ll be the sort of person they could brag about. The rough little boy from the broken home who, under Verity’s remarkable influence, crawled his way out of the gutter and turned out, against all expectations, not to be a drain on society living on benefits.” 

“A scrounger,” Sebastian added, having heard that name thrown about on the news a quite a lot. It didn’t seem fair to him, though, that only poor people seemed to get lumbered with that title. The rich bastards that took every penny they could for themselves were still considered a cut above the rest, even if they inherited instead of worked for their cash. That was another subject that Sebastian felt nobody but him seemed particularly bothered about. It was messed up. 

“A scrounger,” Jim agreed knowledgeably. “The newspapers love an underdog.”

Still, Sebastian was both humbled and sulky about the whole situation. He didn’t enjoy being in Verity’s debt, but his moral code dictated he had to lay off her for a bit, no matter what Jim said on the contrary. He was gutted at having almost lost his place at grammar school, but more devastated that he’d had his position with the school newspaper taken away and that he wouldn’t be allowed to take part in sports day next year. Along with that, he was suspended from the athletics and rugby teams. 

“Well, it wasn’t like you were going to compete in the Olympics,” Jim offered with a shrug. “They’ll want you back when they lose. People always do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Change their morals when it looks like the wind’s blowing in the other direction. It’s a weakness and a strength. Although I think, aside from self-preservation, it’s quite disgusting. Values define us all, Sebastian.” 

Jim had taken on a preachy tone of voice that Seb definitely didn’t appreciate. He got that Jim was far smarter than him, but he had a brain too, a bloody good one. 

“Yeah? And what values do you have?” Seb asked grumpily. 

“Look after me and my own,” Jim responded without blinking. “Learn as much as I can. Make money.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s not shallow at all.” 

Jim was getting better at forgiving Sebastian for his irritating outbursts because he understood that he was stressed out and frustrated about the next month he was going to spend cooped up in the home, but it still bothered him that Sebastian dared to talk back. Jim didn’t think he was shallow at all, just selective about what he put his time into. There was no point in having big, heroic ideals like Sebastian. What he would learn in time, Jim was sure, was that the world didn’t care about them, so why should they care about it? 

“You won’t be calling it shallow when you benefit off the back of it,” Jim corrected Sebastian in superior tones. “It’s not my fault that you lack vision at this point in your life.” 

“I don’t lack fucking vision.” 

“But,” Jim continued. “You’ll learn eventually. In fact, I’m going to teach you.” 

Sebastian aimed a perfect shot on the snooker table, sending out a sharp echo as the snooker balls collided and then scattered, shooting in all directions, three hitting their targets straight off, slamming down into the pockets with satisfying popping noises. 

“Impressive,” Jim praised, placing his hand on Sebastian’s back. “You’ve got nice aim.” 

“It’s not hard,” Sebastian grumbled, just for the sake of being awkward, Jim thought. 

“Explain the thought process, then,” Jim urged him. “How did you make that shot?” 

Sebastian screwed up his face as though he’d been asked to explain the meaning of life. It seemed like second nature to him, and he couldn’t understand what was so fascinating about it. 

“Well, I just look at where everything’s positioned. Anticipate where things’ll most likely go. You can tell usually. Check your options. Choose the one with the most risk, ‘cause you can win more that way. Line up at eye level, just to check you’ve got it spot on. Make the shot.” 

Jim hummed in thought, his mind already making a decision. It would have to be a work in progress, and the conditions would need to be right, but now he was sure. Sebastian had plenty of uses already, but the one Jim had just come up with would probably be his best yet.

But it couldn’t be acted on until Seb’s annoyingly moral core had been shattered. At the moment he still worked on impulse, loyalty, anger and justice. Jim needed him to respond with the same enthusiasm on command, regardless of circumstances.

“Are you out tonight?” Jim asked. 

Sebastian nodded. “Got boxing with Ben, but that’s about it.” 

“And no Sophie, because she’s still in Berlin,” Jim commented. He had no problem with Sebastian learning how to fight people, in fact, he encouraged his new sporting prowess. The only problem was when Sophie lurked around, trying to sneak glimpses at Sebastian when he was all sweaty from training. At least, that was what Jim believed she must do. Because if Sebastian had been training around Jim, pummeling away at a punch bag, grunting, probably, Jim wouldn’t have been able to tear his eyes away. So he reasoned Sophie wouldn’t either. 

“She doesn’t even stick around usually when I’m boxing,” Sebastian told Jim calmly. “She thinks it’s boring.” 

“We don’t need to talk about her now, do we, Sebby?” Jim said quickly, his voice sickly sweet. That was something Sebastian was now used to, but still noticed. Jim delivered venom with a dose of sugar, and sweetness with a pinch of salt. It meant he never quite felt like he had an equal claim on the conversation, that the power lay in Jim’s hand. 

“You were the one that brought her up,” Seb mumbled, moving around the table to decide where to take his next shot from. 

“You can unpack your case properly after dinner,” Jim decreed, ignoring Sebastian’s mumble. He decided he wanted to sit on the snooker table, and so with effort, he hoisted himself up so he could swing his legs from the side of it. He noticed Sebastian giving him a sidelong look. Sebastian was ever so funny about things like that, taking care of equipment, not scuffing up the green cloth that covered the table. Jim had wondered before if he had a touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder, but because Seb didn’t really meet all of the criteria, Jim supposed that it was just his military mind instead. Seb’s brain worked in stages, everything tidied away neatly so he could move from thought to thought methodically. Jim wished he could spend a day in Sebastian’s mind, just so he could see what it felt like not to have cogs constantly turning, to not have shadows clawing at the inside of his skull. He supposed Sebastian didn’t have voices telling him he was useless and should open his wrists. 

Sebastian lined up and took another shot, tongue held between his teeth with concentration. Jim watched how his fingers settled on the table, the cue sliding back and forth over the gap between his calloused knuckles. Sebastian was bent over, so his back muscles strained delightfully beneath his shirt, and his eyes were sharp and focused. When he was done, having potted the ball he wanted, Sebastian finally let out the breath he’d been holding and straightened up. 

“You’re really rather good,” Jim told him. “Who taught you?” 

Seb shrugged his shoulders. “Just picked it up. Guess I watched the others when I was younger.” 

“No, not the rules of the game,” Jim said, shaking his head. “The technique you use. Where did you learn to do that?” 

“Don’t have a technique,” Seb insisted, scratching the back of his neck. “I just know what I’ve got to do, and I find a way to do it.” 

Jim smirked. 

“So it’s instinct.” 

“Yeah, I s’pose so.” 

The twelve year old yawned and stretched his slender arms into the air. “Bored now, Sebastian. Will you hit one for me?” 

“Yeah, which one d’you want me to pot?” Seb asked, already examining the table for moves. 

Jim glanced at the coloured balls sitting on the green table. There was a red sitting right beside the top left pocket, so that was too easy. The pink was tempting, because it was stuck behind some more reds. But the one Jim eventually chose was the hardest of the lot. Mathematically, it was the most awkward shot he could think of. 

“Black,” he ordered Sebastian. 

“Usually you’d pot the black last,” Seb told him as he squinted at the table, trying to get the measure of the layout. The yellow was blocking the black in, and even then, he’d need to bounce the white cue ball off the back wall, which would take a bloody good shot. Still, he was never one to pass up a challenge, and the praise Jim had given him made him hungry for more. 

“Can you do it?” Jim asked impatiently, as Sebastian got down at eye level and started placing his palm down in various spots as a set up for his cue. 

Sebastian sniffed. “Think so. It’s a dodgy one, but I can make it.” 

He went silent as he finally chose his position. He went through his usual process of preparing his body, blue eyes fixed on their destination. Then finally, before Jim had even had the chance to tell him to get a move on, he slid the cue back, aimed, and sent the white ball popping away down the table. Jim held his breath as it rebounded off the back wall at a perfect angle, and came hurtling back to knock the yellow to the left, leaving the black free to shoot into the right side pocket. 

“Impressed?” Sebastian asked, grinning broadly as he stood upright. 

Jim was impressed. Very much so. But it wouldn’t do for Sebastian to get cocky. So he tutted. 

“You could have been quicker about it,” he criticised, and then hopped off the table.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Sophie tells me you defended her honour,” Ben said with a grin as he returned to the training room with a box in his tanned hands. Sebastian shifted a bit awkwardly and then nodded. 

“Yeah, well. Chris was being an arse,” he said, enjoying his praise far more than he should have. It was making him act up, to try and emulate Ben who moved with confidence and ease, without a care in the world. “Sometimes you’ve got to put people in their place, haven’t you?” 

Ben nodded his head and approached Sebastian, ruffling his blond hair. 

“I knew you were a good bloke,” he said. “Looking out for my little sis. That’s what I like to hear.” 

Sebastian swallowed and grinned, not bothering to sort out his hair now it had been messed up. If Ben liked it messy, then that was how he was keeping it. 

“Think I went a bit overboard, though,” he admitted with a sniff and a shrug. 

“Rubbish,” Ben said, waving his hand the same way Sophie did. “If a man is going to demean a woman, then he’ll have to face the consequences. It was karma, Sebastian. I owe you one, Blondie.” 

Sebastian found himself grinning again. If Ben thought he was a hero, then maybe he could deal with being excluded for a few months. 

“So,” Ben announced, patting the box in his hands. “Gift for you. They’re not new, but I think you’ll like them.” 

Seb took the box from Ben with a curious expression. He lifted the lid to reveal a pair of battered blue boxing gloves. They were fairly old, but a good make, and better than anything Sebastian currently owned. 

“Did they used to be yours?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, and not let any of the awe he was feeling show on his face. 

“They did indeed,” Ben agreed, reaching for his water bottle and taking a swig. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and for a moment Sebastian found his eyes tracing the droplet of water that slipped down Ben’s chin, leaving a shining trail across his neck.

Seb snapped himself out of it before Ben could notice. 

“Cheers, Ben,” he said gruffly. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Listen here, Sebastian. Any man who defends my sister and fights like you do is a friend of mine.” 

So Sebastian put on his new boxing gloves, and he and Ben didn’t speak for a whole twenty minutes as they took turns with the punching bag. Occasionally Ben would offer advice, or praise a particular movement that Seb had been practicing. Sebastian tried to ignore the sickeningly excited twist in his stomach whenever Ben patted him on the shoulder or playfully swatted at him. 

By the end of the session, an hour and a half later, they were both covered in sweat. Ben threw Sebastian a towel which he used to mop himself up, rubbing the back of his neck and his arms. 

“You know, I think you could compete,” Ben commented as he took another drink of water. “You’re getting good. Reactions have always been impressive, but your technique’s really improved.” 

Sebastian’s chest swelled with pride. 

“Dunno about competing, though,” he mumbled. “Being in front of the crowd and all that.”

“C’mon, Seb. They’d love you.”

Sebastian didn’t like to admit that he was almost cripplingly shy when it came to that type of situation, and that the idea of performing for a crowd made his stomach churn with nerves. Having Ben teach him was fine, in fact, way more than fine, because he liked Ben, and he trusted him, as far as Sebastian was able to trust anyone that wasn’t Jim or Dawn, anyway. But he wasn’t a showman, and he definitely wouldn’t get the same kick Ben did out of being cheered for and watched as he worked. 

“Maybe next year,” Sebastian said eventually, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Anyway, I like watching you better. Helps me to learn.”

“Give me a few more months and you’ll be begging to get into the ring properly,” Ben said with a laugh. “I’d sort everything out. You’d get through the first round easily. I’ve even got you a name.” 

Sebastian raised his eyebrows curiously. 

“A name? You don’t have a name, do you?” 

“Nope. Well, I was going to go with Adonis for me, but I think that might be taking it a step too far,” Ben joked. 

Sebastian privately didn’t think that wasn’t taking it too far at all. Still, he forced a laugh and started to pack his bag up, ready for the walk back home. 

“It came to me when I was in bed last night,” Ben revealed. “Right out of the blue.

Seb zipped up his hoodie and waited. The idea of Ben actually thinking about him in his spare time was something he’d be keeping for later on, when he wasn’t in danger of giving the game away. 

“Sebastian ‘Basher’ Moran,” Ben said dramatically, punching the air in front of him as he said the middle word, grinning as he waited for a reaction. “Has a ring to it, don’t you think?” 

“Basher,” Seb repeated, already warming to the name, simply because it had been given to him by Ben, and he’d have taken whatever he could get from the older boy. 

“Like it?” 

Sebastian pulled his hood up to hide his damp blond hair. “It’s not bad,” he admitted with a smirk.

“Excellent! Well, think about my offer,” Ben said as the pair of them walked out of the basement, up the stairs and to the front door. “You could be my protégé. I’m thinking about going into sports training. Being a sports coach, you know?” 

“Yeah, you’d be great,” Seb said. 

Ben gave him one of his lazy grins and punched him playfully in the shoulder. 

“Bye then, Blondie. Look after yourself.” 

“Will do,” Seb responded with a half-wave as he shoved his hands into his pockets and began the trek back home. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“You’re looking chirpy,” Jim commented suspiciously as Sebastian returned from boxing looking sweaty, but oddly content. “Did you manage to knock him out?” 

“’Course not, this is just training. We don’t go for a knock out when I’m just learning,” Sebastian told Jim. He went through the bedroom cupboard, on the hunt for a large towel. 

“I used your big one earlier,” Jim told him. “You’ll have to use mine.” 

Sebastian sighed. 

“It’s weeny.” 

“Charming,” Jim said, with a roll of his eyes. “Call me ‘weeny’ again, and I’ll make you pay.” 

Sebastian grinned. He really was acting worryingly optimistic. Jim liked Sebastian to be happy, of course he did, but only when he understood what he was happy about and approved. 

Jim was sitting with his leather bound notebook on his lap, one pencil tucked behind his left ear, the other in his hand. Sebastian knew if he moved close enough to look properly, he’d see sprawling equations in a spidery hand. 

“Go on then. What did Benny-boy tell you?” 

The blond found himself smirking. 

“Ben reckons I can compete. Properly compete.” 

As per usual, Jim sent a verbal knife flying into Sebastian’s plans. “You don’t like people watching you,” he pointed out as he wrote something down. “If you decided to break into boxing professionally, you’d have people surrounding you on four sides, cheering you, yelling at you, insulting you.” 

Seb bristled. 

“I can deal with them.” 

“Outside of the ring, perhaps. But you have to follow rules in boxing, even I know that. I don’t think your temper could handle a few well chosen insults in front of an audience.” 

“I’m not a fucking animal-“ 

“I’m not complaining, ‘Bastian,” Jim said softly, looking up and gracing Seb with his full attention, placing his book aside. “I’m just trying to save you the embarrassment later. Tell Ben, thank you, but no.” 

“If this is about Sophie again, then you can forget it,” Sebastian grunted. “If you think that you getting jealous is gonna stop me from boxing, then you can think again.” 

His good mood had been rained upon by Jim’s truthfulness. He didn’t have the discipline yet to box professionally. And that hurt, because how the fuck would he be able to hack the army if he couldn’t keep his damn temper in check in a boxing ring, in a hotel room with three boys he could easily take in a fight? 

“Go and have your shower,” Jim instructed Sebastian patiently. “Your hormones are making you impossible at the moment. But you can’t help it, so I’m not going to punish you.” 

“You know, you don’t get the automatic right to punish me when I do wrong,” Sebastian said hotly. “You’re my mate, not my keeper.” 

Jim licked his lips slowly. His expression was pitying. Seb couldn’t stand that. 

“Go, darling.” 

“Not your fucking ‘darling’,” Sebastian grunted. “And you’ll need to clear out of here after I’ve showered.” 

Jim sighed. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re acting like a child, Sebastian.” 

“I mean it,” Sebastian insisted. 

“This is our bedroom. Mine just as much as yours. You don’t get to play dictator just because you’re feeling conflicted. You’ve had a nasty set back, but things will be alright, Seb.” 

Sebastian’s shoulders slumped. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“That’s alright. You go and shower, and then later on we can talk.” 

“Don’t need to talk.” 

“Shower, ‘Bastian. That’s a good boy.”


	52. Two Unexpected Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Sophie come face to face with Jim for the first time.

“You could do the drying up, you know,” Sebastian said as he plunged his hands into the kitchen sink once again, reaching for cutlery to start scrubbing.

“It’s more hygienic to leave them to dry naturally,” Jim responded without a trace of guilt. After all, he was already giving Sebastian his support by sticking around while he completed his boring task. Jim was seated at the kitchen table facing Seb’s back, going through his notebook and crossing things off. 

“What are you up to?” 

“Reading my notes.” 

“About?” 

“I’m researching law.” 

Sebastian sniffed. It had ceased to concern him that Jim was routinely breaking the law and helping others to do the same. He knew now that Jim was clever and careful enough not to let himself get caught. 

“Sounds a bit boring,” Sebastian said, just to keep the conversation going, as he started to pile the clean plates up on the side. 

Jim sighed, because it was boring. Boring and frustrating, because the police force in this country and their methods were majorly flawed. It made Jim’s work far easier, because there were so many loopholes, but it irritated him that he, as a twelve year old, could have fixed the system to make it work properly if he was given a week or so. Not that he would ever have helped them. They were on the other side to Jim and they didn’t deserve his aid. 

“I’m diluting the boredom with maths,” Jim told Sebastian solemnly. “I write equations in the margins. I have trouble with patience.” 

Sebastian almost scoffed. That was a bloody understatement. Jim’s life seemed like an eternal quest to escape boredom and normality, to the extent that Seb could barely keep up with him sometimes. After an hour of happiness, he’d suddenly switch his personality and have a sulk. He started to throw things and get spiteful if he was kept waiting, and his chiefest source of entertainment when genuine work failed him, was playing with Sebastian’s emotions. Seb was on to him, however, so it didn’t particularly bother him. 

“Carrie ever give you trouble now?” Sebastian asked as he started to scrub at a large colander. 

“No,” Jim admitted with some pride. “She’s my puppet, really, although she doesn’t know it. Which is for the best. I’m considering sacrificing her.” 

That statement was delivered with such casualness that Sebastian turned around to catch a glimpse of Jim, who was serenely circling something in his notebook. 

“Sacrificing her as in offering her up to the gods on a slab?” Sebastian asked with his usual sarcasm. It was only getting worse, that habit of his. Honestly, Jim thought, trying to get Sebastian to be serious was becoming a real problem. 

“Sacrificing her as in involving her in some crime and having her caught,” Jim clarified with a tut.

“You’d be out of a job,” Seb said, pulling off the unattractive yellow gloves he was wearing and slapping them down on the side. He’d done more than enough. If Verity wanted more stuff cleaned, then she’d just have to do it herself. 

Jim glared at the ugly items and then glanced back up at Seb, his expression perfectly clear and honest. 

“No, I’d be getting myself a promotion.” 

Before Sebastian could respond, the doorbell rang and both Jim and Seb looked in the general direction of the hall. 

“Danni?” Sebastian asked Jim. “She hasn’t been over for a while.” 

“She’s on holiday in Paris. Anyway, it’s getting tiresome to have to keep pretending to be nice when I’m with her.” 

A familiar voice carried down the hall, along with Verity’s own, which sounded surprised and slightly displeased. It was heavily accented, and seemed to float like music. Jim’s eyes narrowed and Sebastian’s lips parted in a gormless look of surprise. 

“Actually,” Verity was saying. “He isn’t supposed to be seeing his friends at the moment. He’s in trouble and can’t go out.” 

“That’s exactly why we came here,” said the unruffled Greek accent. “We won’t cause any trouble, we just want to see him. He is our friend, after all.” 

Verity went silent and to Jim’s surprise, he heard two pairs of footsteps approaching the kitchen and Verity’s office door closing. 

Ever since the government had started to get stricter, Verity had been more stressed than ever. She was always busy and gave up on confrontations sometimes in favour of work. It was good because they got away with more, but it was bad because Jim couldn’t use her as a target for his spite as often as he would have liked. 

Before Jim could even think up an appropriate warning insult, two figures appeared in the kitchen doorway. 

A girl with a confident and friendly air stood slightly in front of a thin boy with nervous posture and apologetic eyes, despite having not done anything wrong yet. 

“You’re Sophie,” Jim said loudly, looking incredulously at his enemy, at the way she’d just talked her way into his home. “And you’re Newt. What are you doing here?” 

He sounded accusatory, but Sophie didn’t seem to notice. She shot a grin at Sebastian, which Jim supposed he must have returned, and Newt gave a tiny smile too. Jack Newton certainly had registered Jim’s animosity, and he seemed uncomfortable about it. 

“I didn’t have you down as a Cinderella type, Seb,” Sophie commented with a gleam in her eyes, which were green like glass and almond shaped. Jim knew he had longer eyelashes than her, though, so that was something. Her figure was hidden beneath a simple t-shirt and a pair of jeans, although her nails were painted pink and she had hair that even Jim admitted privately was rather nice. It curled naturally. The most horrendous thing about her entire appearance was that she didn’t seem aware of her potential to be attractive, just the same as Sebastian. And Jim knew at first hand that could be one of the most irresistible things of all. 

Her nose was long and straight, and ever so slightly rounded at the end. Her nostrils flared sharply in harsh curves and she gave off a general air of no nonsense. As Jim watched her, she placed her hands on her hips. 

“Yeah, well, I’m supposed to be redeeming myself,” Sebastian responded in a tone that Jim wasn’t used to him using. It wasn’t unpleasant, or even particularly different to his usual voice, but Jim still noticed that he spoke in a different way to his friends than he did to him. “Can’t believe Verity let you in, she doesn’t usually.” 

“I can deal with people like her,” Sophie said confidently with a gesture of her hand. Her hands were tanned but with delicate wrists. Jim glared. 

“You know, it’s very rude of you to just turn up here uninvited,” Jim said, interrupting the conversation. “Sebastian and I were busy.” 

Sophie turned her gaze to Jim and got the measure of him in one sweep of her clever eyes. 

“You’re Jim,” was all she said. It sounded like a challenge. 

“Lovely to meet you,” Newt added quickly. “Sebastian talks about you all the time. Are you doing maths?” 

“I am,” Jim told Sophie solemnly. “And yes, Jack, I’m doing maths. Not that either of you would be clever enough to understand it. So.” 

Sophie looked incredulously at Sebastian. Was this rude little boy really the famed Jim Moriarty? The boy Sebastian had chosen as his brother? The boy he could talk about for hours if given the chance? To Sophie, he seemed unpleasant and bossy and entirely unremarkable.

Newt laughed a bit uncomfortably, as though it had been a joke, and Sebastian dried his arms off, getting rid of the bubbles before patting the kitchen table. 

“Sit down,” he offered. “I’ll grab you some biscuits. We’re allowed them when we’ve got company.” 

Jim scoffed at that, at the way Sebastian was acting like they often entertained visitors. Nobody ever came to see them, and Jim thought that was for the best. He didn’t need other people barging in and trying to steal Sebastian’s attention, thank you very much. 

As Sebastian passed him, he let his fingers brush over Jim’s back. It wasn’t a warning, but a plea. Jim didn’t like that at all. It was blackmail. He had the right to hate whoever he wanted, especially when they’d invaded his home. 

He could sense that Sebastian was a bit nervous. He kept scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed, afraid his friends would judge him for his home. It was a horrid place, Jim knew, loud and cluttered too much like a school to let you ever relax. Part of him wanted Sophie to scoff at the conditions, just so he could see Sebastian and Sophie argue. 

Newt sat down opposite Jim and kept stealing furtive glances at him. He had a thin face and a soft look. Jim immediately labeled him as a sissy, but at least he showed some basic respect, unlike Sophie, who acted like he was just a normal person. When he wasn’t. He was better. 

Sophie took the seat beside Newt and relaxed back in her chair. She was far too self-assured for Jim’s liking.

Sebastian returned to the table with the box of biscuits and sat down beside Jim, who shifted as close to him as possible, as if to show Sophie that Seb was his and always would be. 

“Did you walk over?” Seb asked, as Sophie took her pick from the box. 

“Yes, we were bored,” she answered. “And missing you, of course. The entire year is talking about you.” 

Sebastian went red. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. 

Jim placed a soothing hand on Sebastian’s knee, which was a gesture Sophie missed. Newt, however, seemed more perceptive. He took his turn with the biscuits and averted his eyes. 

“But don’t worry. Nobody liked Chris much in the first place. Most people are on your side. Did you hear about what he did to Sandra last month?” 

“No. What did he do?” 

“He threatened to hit her if she didn’t kiss him,” Sophie explained with disdain written all over her face. “He’s trouble, Sebastian. Not of the good kind. If it had been me I’d have kicked him until he learned some respect.” 

That statement and the delivery reminded Sebastian heavily of Ben. 

Newt nodded his head. “He’s awful.” 

Jim thought he could detect something wrong with Jack Newton. He kept looking uncertainly at Sebastian. There was no nastiness in his expression, but he had clearly come to some private conclusion inside his head, and Jim didn’t like not knowing things. 

“You’re awfully posh,” Jim commented, just to see if it would embarrass the boy. It didn’t, although he looked apologetic once again. 

“I had elocution lessons as a child,” Newt explained good-naturedly. “I’m afraid my family are rather into that kind of thing.” 

“And you’re Irish,” Sophie countered, giving Jim another challenging look. “And I’m Greek. And Sebastian’s a Londoner. People can’t help the way they’re brought up, can they?” 

Jim narrowed his eyes. “Did I say there was anything wrong with Jack’s accent?” 

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter,” Newt cut in quickly. 

Sebastian nodded at Newt, wordlessly thanking him. Both Newt and Sophie knew that Jim could be rude. Sebastian had tried to make them understand that he never meant it. Newt seemed to have taken that in, although Sophie kept looking at Jim with flashing eyes. 

Jim nibbled on a chocolate biscuit and leaned against Sebastian’s side, keeping his gaze on Sophie the entire time. Everything about his body language screamed: ‘mine.’ 

“I got another war wound on the way over,” Sophie told Seb, rolling up her jeans and lifting up her knee to display a nasty scratch which looked like it had been bleeding recently. 

Oddly enough, Sebastian looked impressed. Why would he be impressed with a stupid scrape? If someone was stupid and reckless enough to get hurt then that was their own stupid fault, Jim thought. 

With a growing grin, Sebastian rolled up his t-shirt sleeve to reveal a bruise on his arm. 

“Got it in training with Ben,” he told Sophie. “I told him not to go easy on me.” 

Sophie nodded her head approvingly, her curls bouncing. Newt apparently had no ‘war wounds’ because he merely watched on with appreciation and slight concern. He looked seconds away from recommending a plaster. 

An idea forming in Jim’s head, he smirked to himself. He wanted to test this Sophie. 

“Would you like to see my war wounds?” he piped up, blinking slowly up at the girl and widening his eyes. 

“Oh, yes,” Newt said politely. “You three are obviously far braver than me. I don’t think I’ve had a bad scrape since I went bike riding with Grandfather last year.” 

With a lick of his lips, Jim placed his right arm on the kitchen table and went for his sleeve. 

Sebastian only realised a second too late what he was about to do. 

Jim’s pale inner arm was littered with scratches and scars. None particularly deep or wide, but enough to notice. The ones he’d managed to do before Sebastian wrestled the knife or the scissors away from him. He felt Sebastian take a breath beside him. Poor ‘Bastian always got upset seeing the scars. Oh well, Jim mused, he’d let Sebastian kiss them better later. 

“I did them myself,” Jim commented. “Aren’t they nice?” 

The room went silent. Newt looked deeply saddened, his lips parted. Sophie raised an eyebrow, uncertain of what to make of this. Sebastian’s arm went around Jim’s waist to pull him slightly closer. 

“Jim-“ he muttered, in a mixture of warning and despair. 

Pleased with his contribution to the conversation, and that he had the attention and power back, Jim withdrew his arm. 

“Now, now, don’t stare,” he chided. “This is a home for troubled children. We’re all mad here.” 

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” Newt said timidly. “I’ve always liked that book.” 

Jim sighed and frowned at him. 

“C’mon,” Sebastian said, quickly rescuing the situation and breaking the spell. “I’ll give you the grand tour. Ignore the kids everywhere.” 

Jim wasn’t sure if he wanted to go along with the three of them. But he couldn’t leave Sebastian with Sophie unattended, so he got up briskly and took hold of Sebastian’s hand, to make sure he couldn’t be pushed aside. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“He’s not really what I expected,” Newt said tactfully to Sophie as the pair walked home in the afternoon sunshine. 

“He’s short,” Sophie said. “And bossy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a boy that bossy in my life.” 

“He seems close to Sebastian, though, so he’s probably a nice chap, underneath it all,” Newt suggested generously. 

Underneath it all, Sophie mused. Underneath the rudeness, the spite, the dark and threatening eyes, the way he had Sebastian wrapped around his little finger. 

“You always see the good in everyone, that’s your problem,” Sophie informed Newt as they crossed the road. She led the way because Newt was a little afraid of the rough area. He kept peering around, clearly scared he was about to be mugged. 

“Well, Sebastian loves him,” Newt said eventually, as though that was enough for him. 

Sophie hummed and flipped her hair behind her shoulders. 

“He’s nothing like Sebastian’s brother. If my brothers acted like that I’d have to teach them a lesson,” Sophie remarked confidently. “Didn’t you notice the way he kept on demeaning him?” 

Newt frowned. He thought he understood the situation a little more than Sophie did, although he wasn’t going to bring it up. 

“No, I suppose they’re not much like brothers,” he agreed after a moment. “At least, Jim doesn’t treat Sebastian much like that.” 

“For Sebastian’s birthday, we should get him a new best friend,” Sophie declared. 

Newt looked conflicted. “I think perhaps, if they’re happy, then it’s okay,” he said carefully. 

“He’s a bully,” Sophie pointed out. “A little bully, but still, sometimes they can be the worst. Did you notice that he wouldn’t let Sebastian talk unless he liked the subject?” 

“I think,” Newt said again, his tone tactful. “That Sebastian quite likes being told what to do.” 

Sophie huffed. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim was left with a mystery, a problem. Because after spending a couple of hours with Sebastian’s two best friends, something had clicked inside his head like the pieces of a puzzle. 

Sophie wasn’t interested in Sebastian. She didn’t fancy him at all. 

If Jim was right, and he usually was with these things, she was interested in someone else entirely. 

Jim didn’t know if that made things worse or better. 

Oddly enough it made him resent her even more. Because who in their right mind would prefer that weak, pathetic sissy, Newt, to lovely, strong, gorgeous Sebastian? 

Sebastian didn’t give much away when with his friends, but Jim hadn’t witnessed the romantic chemistry he’d dreaded between Sophie and Seb. Unless Sebastian was getting better at hiding his feelings, then Jim was missing something. Something right in front of his nose. 

What was it? 

Sophie, was, however, still his enemy. She was clever and she was quick, and she was far too confident and outspoken for her own good. 

Jim would have to monitor her, because she had clearly expressed her dislike for him, and Jim knew that she had a certain amount of influence on Sebastian’s way of thinking. Well, he’d just have to get rid of her before she got rid of him. A silent battle for Sebastian. 

“What did you think, then?” Sebastian asked after they’d left, looking like he’d been deflated after all that stress, the way he’d played the perfect host and constantly steered the conversation away from Jim’s deliberately controversial and uncomfortable topics. 

“I think that Sophie is intelligent and that Newt is scared of offending people,” Jim remarked carefully. “And that they’ll probably be kissing soon.” 

“You what?” 

Jim sighed. “Sophie likes Newt. Newt likes Sophie. It’s obvious, Sebastian.” 

“Not obvious to me,” Sebastian grunted. 

Jim raised an eyebrow. “You’re tired, Seb. You really don’t like socialising, do you?” 

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t mind it. Just prefer to be doing things rather than sitting talking.” 

“Then it’s a good job I like sitting and talking and doing nothing at all strenuous, isn’t it?” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes, because I can do all of the nasty talking for you, and you can do all the actiony things for me.”

Sebastian frowned. He didn’t like the sound of Jim doing the talking for him. 

“Why’d you show them your arm?” he asked eventually. 

Jim smirked, his eyes adoring and sparkling. 

“Are you saying I should be ashamed of them, darling?” 

Sebastian shook his head, back-peddling quickly.

“No, of course not.” 

Jim nodded his head. “Good boy. You learn very quickly indeed. And I think you made a lovely host this afternoon.” 

“Did I?" Seb asked uncertainly. 

“Very. Although you need work. I can help you with that, don’t you fret.”

Sebastian allowed himself a grin. 

“You gonna make me a social butterfly?’ 

“Who wants to be a social butterfly? You’re going to be a tame wasp.” 

“Hate wasps,” Sebastian mumbled, thinking of a memory he assumed was his and real and not imagined, of a trip to the park with his mother when he was a young child. He’d been stung on his toe and he’d cried and cried. That was okay, though, because his Father hadn’t been there to see it. 

Jim tutted. “You shouldn’t hate wasps. I thought you were supposed to be the compassionate one?” 

“Never said I was compassionate.” 

“You’re a writer, Sebastian. You write poetry, for heaven’s sake. You are the compassionate one. You care about people.” 

Sebastian tensed. 

“You read my poetry?” 

“It’s quite good,” Jim said with a nod. “Although sometimes you can get horribly sentimental.” 

Sebastian didn’t get angry with Jim for reading his writing. His stuff was pretty abstract, because for some reason he couldn’t admit to his feelings, even privately. Jim may have been a genius, but creatively he wasn’t up to much. Sebastian hadn’t even been able to explain the symbolism in a simple Shakespeare sonnet he’d had to analyse for homework. Jim had called it pointless and useless, but Sebastian enjoyed the rhythm and the archaic phrasing. It reminded him of the fantasy realms he had escaped to inside his own head as a child. Of knights and ladies and dragons and magicians. 

“I reckon you can be compassionate too,” Sebastian pointed out after a moment. 

Jim hummed. 

“I can be compassionate when I want to be. But only when I want.” 

He’s compassionate with me, Sebastian thought proudly. 

“We should do something for my birthday,” Sebastian suggested. 

“Hm?” 

“You, me, Newt, Sophie and Ben.” 

Jim scowled. “No, darling, I don’t think so.” 

“Just a thought,” Sebastian mumbled, deflated by that reaction. “You’d like Ben. At least I think you would.” 

“If you think I want to voluntarily come face to face with Sophie’s brother, then you’ve got another thing coming. Don’t push your luck, Sebastian.” 

Sebastian slumped but nodded. “Fifteen soon.” 

“Almost a big boy,” Jim teased, slightly maliciously. 

“Haven’t done much, though, have I?”

“Of course you have. How many people do you think have managed to be sent out of a country in disgrace? And that’s not to mention the arson.” 

There was something more bothering Sebastian, but Jim knew he wasn’t the type to open up. When he was ready, he’d try to ask Jim his advice or opinion in a roundabout way. He’d think he was being subtle, and Jim would let him believe it, although really the twelve year old would manipulate him right back, carefully guiding him without wounding his pride. 

“You’ll be thirteen soon, too,” Sebastian said. 

“A teenager. Yes. Which means you’ll have to finally come to terms with me not being a child.” 

“Still look like a kid, though,” Sebastian mumbled. Jim’s furious expression shut him up in an instant. 

“And you still look like an idiot, but I put up with you. Now, come and fuss over my scars. I know you want to.”


	53. Sebastian Turns Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian turns fifteen and Jim has a present for him.

Sebastian turned fifteen on September twenty ninth. The day was cold and brisk, the heating having failed so the bedroom rattled and leaves hit the window every so often, the wind whistling and screaming. Seb had been worried Jim would be scared, but he slept peacefully all night. He’d stopped wetting himself now, although he often woke up in a cold sweat. He never told Sebastian what it was he saw in his nightmares, but Seb knew it had to be Stanley. To this day Sebastian hadn’t regretted burning that man alive. Jim had suffered more pain since the incident than Stanley had in that room full of flames. 

Jim was practically swaddled in blankets, back in his own bed, the top bunk. Sebastian had given him his dressing gown to wear in the night and tucked him in. It was the same thing he’d done on every cold night since Jim had been eight years old. The dressing gown was a new addition, because Jim pestered him and tried to wear it so much, but the act of curling the blankets around Jim and tucking the edges under his toes came naturally to Sebastian. Jim barely stirred throughout, just made vague humming noises that could have been content or complaint. 

He acted like a little prince, commanding and expectant. Sebastian didn’t mind at all. It made him happy to care for Jim, and he could sleep far easier if he knew Jim was sleeping peacefully too. Jim was his priority in life and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let him down. Ever since his mother’s death, Sebastian had taken on responsibility for his wellbeing. There was no-one else to step up to the plate. 

“You’re awake,” Jim drawled from the top bunk. Sebastian wasn’t quite sure how he knew that, because Seb hadn’t made any real noise. 

“I’m awake,” Seb agreed. His own voice surprised him. It was rougher than usual. Jim didn’t seem shocked by it though, so Sebastian supposed it must have changed gradually, so gradually he, himself, hadn’t paid it much notice. 

“Fifteen. Do you feel different?” came Jim’s voice as he yawned. 

Sebastian thought about it. “No. Not really.” 

“Well,” Jim declared as the bed creaked and Sebastian spotted Jim’s pale toes on the rungs of the ladder as he made his descent, still draped in blankets as though they were robes. “You’ve definitely grown. Not overnight, but recently. And I have too, although you haven’t realised.” 

“I have,” Sebastian argued. “I’ve noticed you growing. Don’t you remember how short you were when you came here?” 

“And I was so adorable you decided to take me in and look after me,” Jim said, the familiar mocking edge to his tone. He could never help himself when he said something affectionate or sentimental these days. “Or was it the other way around?” 

“You what?” Seb asked, sitting up in bed and stretching as Jim watched beside him, tilting his head to one side. 

“Really, I was the one that decided to keep you, wasn’t I?” 

“I think you mean ‘befriend,’” Sebastian pointed out lightly. 

“No,” Jim said seriously, shaking his head. “I mean keep. Because I mean to keep you.” 

It was too early for this and Sebastian was hungry for his breakfast, so he let that slip. He climbed out of bed and opened the curtains, letting in the light. He loved the brightness of a new morning. Jim, however, seemed to take personal offence every time the curtains opened to reveal a new day. 

“You’re the size of a fully grown man,” Jim commented, and Seb couldn’t tell if he was appraising or criticising. 

“Still growing,” Seb said as he ran a hand through his hair and started rooting through the wardrobe for a shirt. He was still excluded which meant he’d spend a day studying at home. It was boring, but better than having to show his face at school. Sophie was keeping him updated, and apparently the rest of his year wouldn’t leave the subject alone. Chris was back at school and Sebastian was dreading how much he’d already let slip. He could only hope that Chris was so afraid of round two that he’d keep his stupid trap shut. 

“So you’ll be a very tall man, then,” Jim agreed with a nod of his head. This was true. Jim put far too much thought into Sebastian as a man. He imagined owning such a person. The possibility sent a shiver of longing down his spine. “’Bastian, brush my hair for me.” 

Sebastian grunted and then found the brush. Jim settled on the desk chair and waited for Sebastian to get going. Seb ran his fingers through Jim’s fluffy dark hair and started carefully trying to tame it. Jim was determined to look as good as possible these days. He had become more and more fussy and Seb had found him looking at his reflection a fair few times. 

“What you want is some hair gel,” Sebastian commented as Jim purred at his touches. 

“Steal me some,” Jim commanded with a sigh. His eyes were closed now as he soaked in Sebastian’s gentle caresses. 

Sebastian knew Jim could just as easily buy himself some, but he shrugged all the same and grunted his agreement. It would give him something to do, anyway. 

“I’ve got you a present, you know,” Jim said eventually. “You haven’t even asked about it.” 

“Not polite to ask,” Seb said with a grin. 

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” Jim asked, accent thick, eyes mischievous as he turned his head slightly to look at Sebastian.

“Wasn’t sure. What is it, then?” 

Jim chuckled and looked back out of the bedroom window. He caught his reflection in the glass, all dark eyes and pale skin, like a ghost. Sebastian was watching him with a fond smirk. 

“Well, there are two. One is just a boring object. The other is far more special.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I won’t waste time with the first one. It’s under the bed and you can open it when I’m at school, otherwise you’ll get all embarrassed and keep trying to thank me.” 

Seb nodded. 

“Alright. Second one?” 

Jim laughed and spun around. He reached into the pocket on his pyjama top and pulled out a tiny card, professionally printed. Seb was half expecting to see a business proposition, but when he read the words, his lips parted with uncertainty and confusion. 

“What’s this?” he asked, eyes still on the card. 

“Read it out loud. It isn’t difficult to understand,” Jim ordered. 

Swallowing, Sebastian began to read. “I, Jim Moriarty, owe the owner of this card, Sebastian Augustus Moran, one kiss at a time of his choosing, as a gift for his fifteenth birthday. Card is valid until my death.” 

Jim hummed his agreement. “That’s quite simple to understand, don’t you think?” 

“Er… Jim?” 

The twelve year old shook his head swiftly. “You don’t have to claim it now, don’t you fret.” 

“I can’t kiss you,” Sebastian mumbled out, still looking too stunned to think properly. 

“And why is that?” 

“I just… no, Jim. Christ…”

“You haven’t kissed anyone, correct?” Jim asked in superior tones. 

“No, I haven’t,” Seb admitted. 

“And at fifteen you really should have.” 

“Loads of my mates haven’t actually-“ 

“So,” Jim interrupted loudly. “I’m volunteering. As a special favour to you.” 

Sebastian looked pained. Jim ignored this. 

“Jim…” 

“Do you want to be rubbish and get laughed at?” Jim demanded, raising his eyebrows. Sebastian was sure Jim had trimmed them recently, because they looked distinctly sharper than he recalled. 

“No,” Sebastian said quietly.

“Then you can kiss me just for practice.” 

Sebastian was still staring at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“No,” he said firmly, looking deeply uncomfortable. “Cheers, but no. You’re just a kid.” 

“No girl will want you if you can’t kiss,” Jim sing-songed at him, entirely unabashed by the less than warm reception to the idea. 

Sebastian scratched the back of his neck and then stretched up into the air. Jim’s eyes wandered to the stretch of tanned skin on show when Seb reached up and then returned to Sebastian’s face. 

Sebastian thought on Jim’s statement with uncharacteristic bitterness. It wasn’t like he’d be kissing any girls in the near future, anyway. Although the seed was now planted. Maybe he was too old to not have snogged anyone…

“Answer’s still no, Jim. I appreciate it, but I’m not gonna kiss you.” 

Jim pouted. 

“You love me,” Jim pointed out. 

“Yeah.” 

“What’s a little kiss between friends? Hm?” Jim asked softly. His voice was persuasive, and if Sebastian hadn’t been fifteen years old and logical, he might have believed there was a form of magic behind those words. Like a siren luring men to their deaths with song. 

He shook his head quickly, placing the hairbrush down on the desk. 

“You don’t kiss your mates. You just don’t. Okay? This might be one of those things you don’t get, but it’s like the personal space thing.” 

Jim was, in fact, very aware of personal space. He simply chose to ignore it when it came to Sebastian. In his mind, Sebastian belonged to him, so he had every right to go as near to him as he pleased. Hadn’t Jim claimed him when everyone else had abandoned the blond?

“Well, don’t expect me to help you next time you need it,” Jim said spitefully. “I’ve offered to be nice but you don’t like it. Your present is under the bed, just like I told you. I’m going in the bath. Come and say goodbye to me before I leave for school, and don’t you dare sulk.” 

“Heating’s not working. No hot water,” Seb said. 

“It will work for me,” Jim declared, nose in the air. 

As he flounced out of the room, he turned in the doorway with an unnervingly confident and amused expression. 

“Keep the card. You’ll be needing it.” 

With that, he trotted away to the bathroom. 

Sebastian stared after him, card in his hand. Maybe it was time he got his act together? If even Jim had noticed how behind he was when it came to relationships, maybe he needed to fix that? 

Maybe he would. He had boxing that evening. Time to stop being a coward.


	54. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian decides to be courageous, with disastrous consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter includes homophobic language.

Sebastian turned up at Sophie’s house for boxing as usual, bag slung over one shoulder housing his beloved boxing gloves from Ben. He was filled with a certain resolve, a fire in his blood. Today he was going to stop lying. He was going to face up to what he was once and for all. 

Sophie answered the door with a grin and let him into the house. 

“Happy birthday!” she said brightly. “Newt left a card for you with me. You’re so lucky you weren’t at school today. We had double maths. It was so boring, even Newt lost interest.” 

Chattering away, Sophie led Sebastian into the living room. Ben was waiting there, sprawled out in one of the armchairs. When he saw Sebastian he got to his feet and grinned at him. 

“Birthday boy,” he greeted, reaching out to shake his hand. Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk. Ben’s grip was firm and solid. He patted Sebastian on the back in a manly impression of a hug and then let him go. 

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Sophie said, already strolling off. “Seb, we have ice cream and cake. When you’re done with the training, we’ll eat? Okay? And I can’t wait for you to see the present. Newt chose it, but don’t worry, it’s pretty good.” 

Ben and Sebastian were left alone. 

“Come on then, Blondie. Let’s get going,” Ben prompted, heading off to the basement, Sebastian at his heels. 

“So, fifteen,” Ben commented as he watched Sebastian attacking the punch bag. “Too slow, Seb. You’re letting your guard down. I thought you told me you were ambidextrous? Good. Very good. That’s right.” 

Sebastian listened to his instructions and did as he was told. 

“Yeah, sixteen next,” Seb said, panting as he spoke. He hit the punch bag so hard it almost ripped. Ben clapped his hands together in appreciation and laughed, throwing his head back confidently.

Sebastian wiped his arm across his forehead to get rid of the sweat and grinned as well. 

“I’m thinking I’ve done a Merlin,” Ben commented good-naturedly. 

“A Merlin?” 

“C’mon, Blondie. Sophie says you read all about King Arthur.” 

“I do,” Sebastian admitted, surprised Ben knew that piece of information about him. “My mum left me Le Morte d’Arthur.” 

“You’re the Lady of the Lake to my Merlin,” Ben offered. 

Sebastian understood that well enough. He beamed, showing his teeth. 

“You reckon now you’ve taught me all you know I’m gonna beat you?” 

“Could do,” Ben agreed. 

Sebastian was feeling brave today, full of purpose. So he smirked. 

“Want to test the theory?” 

Ben looked surprised, but nodded his head, impressed. 

“You think you can take me?” 

“I know I could,” Sebastian responded confidently. It was an act, the whole confidence thing, but who was to know? If Jim could act a part when he wanted to, then so could Seb. 

Ben laughed again, a sound which made Sebastian’s heart pound, and then he went to put on his red boxing gloves. 

“I’ll go easy on you,” Ben told Sebastian as he approached him again, already getting a new spring in his step, the one Sebastian knew meant he was ready to perform. 

“Rules?” Sebastian asked, trying to draw himself up to his full height. He didn’t look as impressive as Ben, he knew, but he wanted to try. He was more still than the other boy, taller now. While Ben moved swiftly when he fought, bobbing around, performing like he had an audience, Sebastian usually kept his eyes on his target, trying to second guess them, only moving at the last second, his face a mask, giving nothing away. 

“If you can punch me in the face in five minutes,” Ben decided. “Then you win. Think you’re up to it?” 

Sebastian nodded his head. He was ready. 

“You bet.”

“Good man,” Ben praised. He glanced at the clock, checking the time, and then nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, Blondie. Give it all you’ve got.” 

It was a much harder task than it seemed. Ben was quick and he was experienced. Every time Sebastian got close enough to throw a punch, Ben shifted out of the way or suddenly sent a punch of his own out. A light one that didn’t aim to majorly wound that hit Sebastian in the stomach or the arm. A wordless reminder to block himself. 

Teeth gritted, Sebastian’s expression hardened. This had been going on for three minutes. Three minutes and Ben was easily avoiding every single one of his attempts to land a punch. He had to impress him. Failure wasn’t an option. 

“Come on, Blondie,” Ben baited him, hopping around, light on his feet. “Two minutes and I win.” 

Sebastian took a deep breath and surveyed Ben. He knew his technique. He moved around a lot and only lashed out when he could be in and out too quickly for his opponent to swing his own right back. Sebastian wasn’t nearly as fast as he was on his feet, but his reactions were quicker. He’d have to use his brain, then. That was what Jim would have advised. 

Ben’s weakness was that he was cocky, that he couldn’t resist getting one over on someone. So Sebastian immediately changed his body language. He needed to play dirty to win this one, to disorientate. Seb started to act as though he was giving up, deliberately throwing out sloppy punches, giving Ben the opportunity to prod his sides, to circle him. All the time Ben was getting closer and closer, losing his concern at being hit back. He started baiting him further, moving right into Sebastian’s space, laughing. Sebastian even let out a long growl of frustration to add to the effect. 

Less than a minute left. Ben looked triumphant. 

“Looks like you’re not quite-“ 

WHAM. 

Sebastian hit Ben directly in the face, his words lost as his cheek collided with Sebastian’s boxing glove. 

Immediately Seb stood back, panting. He lowered his gloves, watching to see if Ben was alright. The older boy rubbed his cheek for a moment, looked surprised, and then broke into a grin. 

“Now that,” he praised, his voice thick as his cheek went numb. “That was impressive work.” 

Sebastian let out a breath and grinned back, feeling euphoric. 

“You know, Blondie, I’m glad Sophie found you,” Ben said, taking off his boxing gloves and dropping them on the floor. “I think we’ve got a future together, you and I. It isn’t often you meet a talent like you.” 

“Yeah, well, I’d be shit if you hadn’t taught me,” Sebastian responded, taking a step forward. 

Ben smiled. He opened his arms. “C’mere, Blondie,” he said. 

So Sebastian did. He swallowed hard and approached, embracing Ben and closing his eyes. Ben’s body was hard and sweaty and warm. Sebastian’s pride at his victory mixed with arousal in the pit of his stomach. 

They stood still for a long moment, and Ben patted Sebastian on his back. “Good man,” he repeated. 

Sebastian took a deep breath. It was now or never. Ben had said they had a future together, hadn’t he? Ben was his mate. Ben would get it. 

He turned his head to the side slightly and pressed his lips to Ben’s cheek. 

The atmosphere changed so fast Sebastian felt the air go sour around him. Ben let go of him in an instant, as though burned, and Sebastian felt the sensation of ice trickling down his back. 

“What are you playing at?!” Ben demanded, his accent stronger in his confusion and disgust. 

Sebastian stumbled backwards, eyes wide, chest heaving. “I dunno… I just thought…” 

He didn’t get to tell Ben what he’d thought, because a fist collided with his face, knocking Sebastian to his feet. 

“Do you think I’m a dirty little shirt lifter?!” Ben asked maliciously, using a tone Sebastian had never heard before. He towered over him, glorious but terrifying. 

“No,” Sebastian said, although his mouth felt odd. He could taste blood. “I’m sorry… I never thought…”

“Never thought? Never thought what?!” Ben demanded, raising his voice. “Is that what you are, Sebastian? Are you a poof?” 

“It’s not like that,” Sebastian said desperately, feeling his body slump with absolute despair. His chest felt empty and he was scared. “Look, it won’t happen again. I respect you, Ben. You’ve taught me so-“

Another punch to the face shut Sebastian up. Then came the kicks. There was shouting too, but Sebastian didn’t hear it. 

Sebastian wasn’t sure how long it lasted for. All he knew was that his mind wasn’t with his body, it was elsewhere, and he hated himself. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim was late home from school, having held a meeting with several members of his group. They were arguing about pay and Jim had been forced to put them straight. It was no good the lackeys demanding a rise when they weren’t prepared to put their necks on the line. Half of them couldn’t be trusted to even complete a task correctly as it was. The rewards would only be given when Jim judged the services offered worthy. 

Tired but interested to see how Sebastian had liked his new manual treadmill so he could train at home, Jim walked up the stairs, avoiding Chloe’s toys easily enough having done so for every day of the past two months. He suspected she was trying to get someone to fall down. Inwardly he wished her luck with her experiment, provided the victim wasn’t him, Sebastian, or Dawn. 

“Sebastian!” Jim exclaimed as he entered the bedroom. Seb was curled up on top of the desk, head leaning against the bedroom window. He was broken, he was bloody, and he was quite obviously and shockingly distressed. 

“I did something stupid,” he mumbled, voice cracking in a way that scared Jim beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life. 

“What happened?” Jim asked quietly, horror dawning on his features as he closed the bedroom door behind himself. “What did you do?” 

“I’m going to Hell.” 

Jim snapped, his panic overtaking him. “We’ve established there’s no such place. What are you talking about?” 

“You don’t get it,” Sebastian breathed out, each word a struggle. “I’m not… what you think I am…” 

“Have you killed someone?” Jim demanded, immediately going into business mode, thinking of all the ways he knew to hide bodies, even contemplating getting the pair of them out of the country. There were avenues they could pursue. Jim had money and he had the ability. Sebastian wouldn’t be going to prison. Jim wouldn’t allow that to happen. 

Sebastian shook his head. 

Jim waited for more information, but none came. He noticed a bead of blood dripping down Sebastian’s cheek. There were bruises all over his face. 

“What?!” Jim hissed, eyes wide. 

Sebastian clamped his eyes shut and looked for all the world as though he was preparing to be attacked. His shoulders tensed and he made himself smaller. Jim thought that Sebastian should never ever have to look like that. Little and breakable. How could so big a boy still manage to look like a child in moments of distress?

“I think I’m gay,” Sebastian said. 

The room was silent. Jim narrowed his eyes, waiting for the bad news, waiting for the admission of murder. When there was nothing, Jim stood still, brain racing. Gay. That was okay. It explained a lot. It solved his puzzle.

“Oh,” said Jim, not reacting with the disgust Sebastian had expected. He looked relieved, perhaps even a little pleased. “Well, that’s not-“ 

“I tried to kiss Ben.” 

“YOU DID WHAT?!” Jim screeched, throwing out his arms in frustration. 

Seb let his head fall into his hands, shoulders shaking. 

“Why on earth would you do that?!” Jim demanded, stomping about furiously, his expression contorted into something dark and manic. 

“I dunno,” Seb breathed. “I just wasn’t thinking… And you said I needed to snog someone…”

“You can’t go about your life just… kissing people!” Jim declared, sounding strict and incredulous, as though Sebastian had done the worst thing in the world. He was turning spiteful now, Sebastian knew. He braced himself for Jim’s fury to wash over him. 

“I know,” Seb groaned. 

Jim huffed and stomped about some more. He had the sudden and frighteningly clear urge to push Sebastian out of the window. Sebastian deserved it, to have his body break through the glass, getting slashed and bloody on the way down, finally clattering lifeless in the back garden, bones twisted and snapped… 

No, Jim told himself. No. Sebastian was afforded special privileges. Jim needed him alive. 

He restrained himself from making any move to carry out his violent plan and instead blinked slowly. 

“Why?” he demanded shortly. 

“He was saying all this stuff about how good I was… how he was glad he met me… that we had a future…”

Jim’s eyes were slits. 

“And so what happened?” he demanded, his tone giving nothing away other than displeasure. 

“He beat me up,” Sebastian said. His shoulders were shaking again. It sickened Jim to the pit of his stomach to see Sebastian in this state. He wasn’t supposed to cry. He wasn’t allowed.

“Please tell me you hit him back,” Jim said sharply, already knowing the answer. 

Sebastian looked over at Jim with despairing blue eyes. He shook his head. No. 

Jim thought the violence from this Ben was extremely unnecessary and he was outraged on Seb’s behalf, but Sebastian had to be taught a lesson. Jim stood to gain something from this and he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to drive his point home. 

“In future, perhaps you’ll think before acting so rashly,” Jim said eventually, forcing calm. 

“Do you hate me?” 

“No, but you’re foolish,” Jim told him bluntly. “Next time, you’ll choose someone who’s worthy of you and will return your affections.” 

“I liked Ben, though,” Seb said. 

Jim lost it again, flying into a rage. He grabbed the nearest object, the pencil pot on the desk, and threw it at Sebastian. The pot hit the side of Sebastian’s head with a dull thunk and pencils and pencil shavings rained down on him. 

“You’re lucky he didn’t KILL YOU!” he shrieked madly. “You’re an idiot!” 

Sebastian made no move to do anything except cry and try to make himself smaller. Jim glared at him hatefully and then strolled over to his bed, seating himself primly on the mattress with his head high. He’d been betrayed, yes, horrendously so. But at least Sebastian was learning a valuable life lesson. Nobody could be trusted. No-one but him. 

Jim let Sebastian snivel for a while. He sat on the bed and pondered all the injustices of life. He cursed his size and his appearance and his lack of muscles. He cursed the two years that separated him and Sebastian, a barrier he would have done anything to break. 

“Have you stopped crying?” Jim asked eventually as Sebastian gave a large sniff. 

“Y-yeah,” he mumbled. 

“Goodness me, you’re being dramatic,” Jim chastised, finally getting up and wandering over to where Seb was curled up. “Come here.” 

Seb looked wary. 

“It doesn’t matter that you’re gay,” Jim told him wisely, rolling his eyes that he should even have to explain this. 

“Everyone’ll hate me,” Seb mumbled. 

“I won’t,” Jim said firmly. “Nobody that matters will hate you. Now pull yourself together, Moran.” 

Seb sniffed again. 

Jim stood on his tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to Sebastian’s salty cheek. 

“There now,” he soothed. “Everything’s going to be fine.” 

Seb grunted something Jim didn’t hear properly. 

“You don’t need silly boxing now. You can go back to swimming.”

Sebastian remained silent. 

With a sigh, Jim clambered up onto the desk so he could sit in Sebastian’s lap, removing some of the pencils he’d thrown in the process. If they leaned too hard against the flimsy window they could topple out to their deaths. Jim liked that thought. It was exciting. 

Sebastian let Jim settle in his lap without a word. He stretched out his legs to make it more comfortable for Jim. 

“What did I say to you about the way I loved you?” Jim asked Sebastian in a whisper. “Hm?” 

“You said… unconditional,” Sebastian said quietly. 

“Exactly. Unconditional. So pull yourself together and don’t disappoint me. I don’t like to see you like this.” 

“Sorry,” Sebastian mumbled. 

With difficulty, Jim turned in Sebastian’s arms. He might have been hurting Sebastian’s legs, but he didn’t care. 

He placed his palms on Sebastian’s cheeks and looked right into his eyes. 

“You won’t be kissing anyone else now, will you?” 

“No,” Sebastian breathed. 

“Good boy. Because they can’t be trusted. None of them. Ben was supposed to be your friend, but he betrayed you. And if he can betray you, then think what the others could do.” 

“I can’t help it,” Sebastian said quietly, looking apologetic. His blue eyes were rimmed with red. Jim thought he still looked handsome like this, although he much preferred his smirk. “Liking blokes, I mean. I can’t help it. I swear.”

“I know you can’t, Sebby darling,” Jim agreed with a nod of his head. “Nobody can. Do you think I like girls?” 

Sebastian frowned, having not thought about it before. To Sebastian, Jim was a brother, a genius and a kid. Who knew what Jim was into? Sometimes he didn’t even seem human. The idea of Jim in a relationship of any sort was absurd. He hated sentimentality, he said so himself. 

“I dunno. Do you?” 

“None so far,” Jim told Sebastian honestly. “Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t, but I’ll tell you what I do like, shall I?” 

Sebastian nodded. 

“I like men in suits.” 

“That’s why you’ve got those magazines?” 

“Yes. I like the suits and I like the men in them. That’s fine, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed. 

“And I like blond hair especially, and blue eyes, ‘Bastian,” Jim whispered reaching one hand up to stroke Sebastian’s hair. 

Sebastian swallowed and felt like he was going to cry again, because he didn’t feel alone. It was okay. He still had Jim. 

“Oh, hush now,” Jim said, watching Sebastian’s eyes fill with tears. He wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s neck and held him tightly as Sebastian cried against his shoulder. Jim ran his pale fingers through Sebastian’s hair and closed his eyes. 

“It’s okay, darling,” Jim whispered softly, taking on the role of protector. It made him feel a mixture of powerful and lost. He could feel Sebastian’s tears against his neck. “I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going anywhere. ‘Bastian.” 

Jim could feel Sebastian’s large hands fisting in his shirt. His body shook as he tried to suppress his anguished sobs.

“All you need, all you’ll ever need, is me,” he whispered, kissing the top of Sebastian’s head. “And I love you very much.”


	55. Swimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim allows Sebastian to take him swimming.

“Sebastian’s anger management plan says he has to do a certain amount of physical exercise a week,” Jim told Verity firmly. 

He was seated as comfortably as he could manage in the chair opposite Verity’s desk. She hardly ever left her office these days. Dawn had told Jim it was because the government were trying to take money away from the home and Verity was attempting to get around it somehow. Jim supposed that was sensible of her, although he still found her to be an idiot, and for all her big words and qualifications, exceptionally stupid when it came to dealing with mental illness.

“And how would you know that?” Verity asked as she pressed buttons on a grey calculator. 

“Because I read his file.” 

Jim hadn’t read all of it. He’d hunted through the cabinet with the full intention to read all about Sebastian’s life before Jim knew him, but somehow, seeing the image of four year old Sebastian, bruised and battered and looking more like a corpse than a boy, had scared Jim enough to make him close the file and tuck it away. He had nightmares about it sometimes, seeing Sebastian, his protector, on the brink of death like that. If Sebastian hadn’t been so strong, if he’d not been taken to the hospital by his mother, he might have died from blood loss. The thought was too terrible to contemplate, and Jim usually found himself able to contemplate a lot of awful things. 

The Sebastian in that grainy image taken at a hospital was not his own. It couldn’t be his own. Because his Sebastian was unbreakable. 

Verity seemed too tired to tell him off. She merely sighed. 

“He already does boxing. I won’t permit anything else.” 

“He’s given up on boxing now. He wants to swim instead,” Jim told her confidently. This would be easy, he knew. Preoccupied and stressed-out Verity was a woman that could be convinced to let the little things slip. 

“You’ll need a chaperone.” 

Jim had already considered that. 

“Dawn will take us.” 

“Have you asked her?” 

“Not yet,” Jim admitted. “But she’ll agree. Unlike some people I could mention, she cares about our wellbeing.”

Verity gave another tired sigh and Jim noticed new lines on her face. She was one of those people it was impossible to put an age to. She could have been a very weary young person, or she could have been approaching middle age. Her hair, which seemed to be greying in places, gave nothing away. 

“Both of you?” 

Jim nodded. 

“You’re the one that goes on and on about us being healthy. I thought you wanted me to go outside more?” 

“I do,” Verity agreed. “The cost?” 

“I’ll pay.” 

“With what?”

“My dad sends me money.”

Jim waited for Verity to pry. She didn’t seem to have the energy. 

“Alright then. But you’ll have to get Dawn to call me and confirm.” 

“Are you working on accounts?” Jim asked as he got up from his chair. He peered over at Verity’s sheet of paper where numbers were scrawled. 

“Yes, I am,” she said simply. 

Jim tilted his head to one side and read the equations upside down. “You made a mistake on the third one down. You’ll need to type it in again,” Jim offered quietly, before strolling out of the room. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian needed a lot of protecting at the moment, and Jim was willing to take that job. At dinner with the other kids, Jim sat beside Sebastian and glared at every single person that stared for too long at Sebastian’s poor, bruised face.

“Who beat you up, Sebastian Moron?” Bradley asked from across the table. His mouth was full of food as he spoke. It made Jim feel sick.

While Sebastian lowered his head, Jim lifted his own, fixing Bradley with his most intense gaze. “You should see the state of the other boy,” Jim declared. “And there was the boy in Germany too. The one that had his skull cracked open. Do you know what they had in common, Bradley the Chav?” 

“What?” Bradley asked, spraying food across the table. 

“They both thought they could cross Sebastian. Do the smart thing for once and don’t make the same mistake.” 

Bradley went quiet, thinking that over. 

“Did you just threaten me?” he asked dumbly. 

Jim sneered at the boy. “I don’t need to threaten you. It’s a fact. Those that bother Sebastian end up very unhappy indeed. And in quite a few pieces.” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When Dawn turned up the next day, Jim met her in the corridor. 

“We’re going swimming,” he announced by way of greeting. 

“You want me to take you? I thought you didn’t swim?” 

Jim shook his head. “I don’t swim, and yes, I want you to take us. Sebastian’s had a little disappointment and now he needs to be looked after.” 

Dawn took off her puffy jacket and hung it on her hook by the door. If Jim had been dressing Dawn, he would have put her in something more slimming, only Sebastian had told him he wasn’t to comment on Dawn’s weight anymore, and at the moment he wanted to keep Seb happy. 

“What’s happened?” 

Jim beckoned her into the television room, which was currently empty. 

“Well, to cut a long story short, he got beaten up by one of his friends. I can’t tell you why. But now he’s bruised up and sad.” 

Dawn frowned. 

“Does Verity know about this?” 

Jim laughed. “Verity hasn’t left her office in two days. And she wouldn’t care about Sebastian being hurt. She’s not that sort of person.” 

“Okay then,” Dawn agreed. “I can try and sort it for next week? I’m a bit busy until then. Does Sebastian need any ice for his bruises?” 

Jim hadn’t thought of that.

“I’ll get you some frozen peas,” Dawn said helpfully. “I’ve heard that can help.”

So Jim trooped up the stairs five minutes later with a bag of frozen peas in his right hand. 

As expected, Sebastian was sitting on his bed with a book in his hands. Seb had taken to reading almost obsessively in an attempt to block out his feelings. The nearly-thirteen year old didn’t have the heart to pry the thick and intimidating novels out of Sebastian’s large hands. 

Jim took a moment to appreciate the bruises blossoming all over his Sebastian’s face, making it swollen and oddly contorted. It was a beautiful sight really. Beautiful and terrible. 

“Frozen peas,” Jim announced, closing the door behind him. “And we’re going swimming in a week.” 

Sebastian swallowed and put his book down. “You hate swimming,” he pointed out. “You can’t do it. You never got taught.” 

Jim sighed and sat down beside Sebastian, handing him the peas and wiping his wet hand on Sebastian’s shirt. 

“Well, you can teach me then, can’t you? Provided you don’t let me drown.” 

“Okay,” Sebastian agreed. 

That wasn’t quite the grateful reaction Jim had been hoping for, but it was better than nothing. 

“You can’t just mope about in here forever,” Jim told Sebastian firmly. 

“Not moping,” Seb mumbled. “Reading.” 

Jim rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t try to be smart. Yes, you are. At dinner last night you let Bradley walk all over you and I had to shut him up. You’re a fighter Sebastian, I expect you to respond differently next time.” 

“I’m just tired,” Sebastian attempted to explain. And he was tired. He was tired of everything. 

“What do you say to me every time you find me about to open my wrists?” Jim asked Sebastian gently, placing his hand on Sebastian’s thigh. “Hm?” 

Sebastian thought about it, sniffing as he responded. 

“It’s gonna be alright.” 

“Exactly,” Jim agreed. “And the same goes for you. Do you think I’ll let you be miserable for the rest of your life?” 

“Guess not.” 

“You guess right,” Jim said with a nod of his head. “You and I only have each other, which makes it even more important that we’re both okay, doesn’t it?”

Sebastian nodded. 

“You feel awful right now because your friend has rejected you, and the others probably will too,” Jim said simply. “And that’s natural, ‘Bastian. But Dawn won’t reject you, and I certainly won’t. So there’s no need to fret, is there?”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The swimming pool was overheated and the floor was wet. It smelled strongly of chlorine and Jim wrinkled up his nose with distaste as he, Dawn, and Sebastian entered the building. 

Dawn decided to go and wait in the café while he and Sebastian had a swim. They were allowed an hour before they had to meet Dawn again. 

They chose a changing room to share, and Sebastian started to strip off his jeans. He was already wearing his swimming trunks underneath them. Jim peered at him curiously. 

“Are you not going to take your shirt off?” 

Sebastian shook his head. “People’d stare. Scars.” 

Jim supposed that was reasonable. He peeled off his own jeans and decided to keep his t-shirt on too. Partly so Sebastian wouldn’t feel so odd and covered up, but partly because he knew that compared to Sebastian’s muscled abdomen, his stomach would appear soft and childish. He didn’t want people to see that. 

They paid money for lockers and walked down to the pool, placing their towels on the side. 

Jim didn’t trust the slippery surface beneath his feet or the way the water went between his pale toes, causing Jim to screw up his features. He hoped he wouldn’t get germs. Sebastian walked with the confidence of someone that had done this lots of times, and Jim had to up his pace to keep up with him. He found himself walking on the balls of his feet and trying to stay balanced so he wouldn’t slide over and embarrass himself. 

The pool itself was simple enough, although it looked too deep to Jim, the lights too bright. The colours on the surface shifted and people were splashing all over the place. 

One end of the pool was cordoned off for some sort of club or practice, but Jim didn’t pay that much notice. Sebastian led him to the least crowded area of the pool, the shallow end. 

Sebastian climbed into the pool via a metal ladder and looked immediately at ease. His feet could touch the floor easily, but he decided to tread water. 

Jim perched on the edge, tentatively dipping his toes into the water. It wasn’t as warm as he would have liked. He wondered if the chlorine was stinging Sebastian’s cuts and bruises. 

“It’s not so bad once you’re in,” Sebastian assured him. “When your shoulders go under, your body adjusts.” 

“I don’t think I want to swim anymore,” Jim said quickly, looking down at the way the water swirled and surged and distorted the painted lines on the pool floor. Jim wasn’t usually scared, at least, he didn’t admit to his fears, but the water did disturb him. 

“Okay,” Seb said. “You want to watch?” 

Jim nodded. 

So Sebastian swam. Jim admired the way the water parted for him, the way his shoulders strained with each stroke. He was powerful and he was beautiful. It took him hardly any effort at all to glide from one end of the pool to the other, and every so often he ducked right under the water and then broke the surface a distance away from where he’d initially disappeared. Jim watched the way the water soaked his blond hair to his head, making it appear brown, sticking to his face, trickling over his features and dripping from his strong jaw. Sebastian’s white t-shirt stuck to his skin too, and displayed his lovely stomach, hard and perfectly sculpted. 

Eventually, Sebastian returned to Jim, looking a little more like his usual self. His anger management plan had got it right. Exercise did soothe Sebastian. It exhilarated him. 

“You sure you don’t want to swim?” he asked, wiping water out of his eyes. The chlorine was making his blue eyes brighter, even the one with the drooping lid, still healing from a punch. 

“I’ll get in with you,” Jim said finally. “But I won’t swim today. Is it too deep for me?” 

Sebastian stood up straight in the water and worked out where the water came to on his body. 

“Your mouth’ll be above the water,” he told him. 

Jim nodded his head and took a breath. He wasn’t quite sure how to enter the water.

Sebastian responded perfectly as always. He swam right up to the edge and held out his arms so Jim could slip into them. 

“You’ll let me out if I don’t like it?” Jim asked. 

Sebastian nodded. “’Course.” 

Jim’s body was awkward and he tensed up as he tentatively lowered himself into the pool. Sebastian kept his arms wrapped around him, easily holding his head above the water level. Jim clung to his neck tightly and kicked his feet a bit, getting used to the feel of being partially submerged. It wasn’t as unpleasant as he’d thought, but perhaps that had something to do with the way Sebastian was allowing him to cling to his body so tightly. 

“You alright?” Sebastian asked, staring to move away from the edge. 

“Yes, I think so,” Jim agreed. “How do you stay up? When you’re not touching the ground?” 

“Kick your feet like you’re pedalling a bike. Then just push the water from side to side with your hands. Keep your fingers together.” 

Sebastian’s hands moved to Jim’s hips so he had the space to try it out. At first he flailed and kicked clumsily, expression slightly scared. 

“I’m not gonna let go of you,” Sebastian assured him. 

“You’d better not,” Jim murmured, attempting it yet again but still finding he was useless at it. The water didn’t respond to his commands the way it did to Sebastian, and the smell of the chlorine was putting him off. 

“It’ll get easier. Everything does in the end,” Sebastian told him, pulling Jim back into his arms and starting to swim him slowly around the pool. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“You know what I want to do, don’t you?” Jim asked Sebastian quietly as they got dressed in their changing room. Seb was scrubbing at his hair and Jim was standing draped in the largest towel, looking expectant and waiting for Sebastian to dry him. 

“You can’t,” Sebastian said in low tones. “Please don’t.” 

Jim tutted but looked sad. 

“He hurt you. And nobody hurts my ‘Bastian. I can’t allow it.” 

Sebastian looked pained as he pulled on a blue t-shirt and reached for his jeans. 

“You don’t get it, Jim. You just don’t.” 

Jim thought he got it exactly. He understood it all far better than Sebastian did. Poor Sebastian blamed himself for what Ben did to him, but Jim wasn’t going to allow that to continue. 

“Dry me off,” Jim commanded, and Sebastian did so, zipping up his jeans and moving to rub Jim’s body with the towel, his movements methodical as he tried to avoid the confrontation he knew was coming. 

“What if I said I won’t hurt him physically?” Jim asked. “What if I just used my resources to make him pay some other way?” 

Sebastian found Jim’s shirt and pulled it over Jim’s dark head. 

“I don’t want you to hurt him,” he said simply. 

Jim sighed and reached out to pat Sebastian’s chest. “I have to punish him, Sebby. You know that, don’t you? But as a favour to you, I’ve decided not to break his bones. I’m making an allowance.” 

Sebastian grabbed Jim’s jeans and held them for Jim as he stepped into them carefully, his hands on Sebastian’s shoulders to steady himself. 

“You can’t hurt him,” Sebastian repeated, refusing to look Jim in the eyes. 

“Physically, no. In terms of wounded pride and reputation, yes, I certainly can,” Jim agreed as he sat down on the bench, waiting for Sebastian to put his socks on for him. It reminded him of when he was a child and Seb had done the same every morning without fail. 

Sebastian gave a resigned sigh which Jim took as his assent. And even if it wasn’t agreement, Jim would get his way eventually. It was for Sebastian’s own good, after all. People had to learn that he wasn’t to be messed with. They both had to be untouchable. 

“You have bloody weird feet,” Sebastian commented as he tried to cover Jim’s toes with the material of his socks. 

“I have beautiful feet,” Jim corrected him firmly, poking him in the cheek with the big toe of the foot that was still free. 

“Monkey feet.” 

“Small and dainty,” Jim said with a smirk. “Not like your monstrosities. You have man feet.” 

“Right, and you have woman feet, is that what you’re saying?” Sebastian teased. 

It was good to hear Sebastian being playful again. He hadn’t laughed once since what had happened with Ben, and it soothed Jim. It meant Sebastian was healing and getting stronger and harder in the process. 

“I’m saying my feet are prettier than yours,” Jim clarified, poking Sebastian in the cheek again. “Now hurry up. I want to go home and have a nice bath.” 

“With bubbles?” 

“Yes, with bubbles,” Jim agreed. “You can run it for me. And you need a shower because you stink of chlorine.” 

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian said, using his mock-military voice, the one that had made Jim laugh so much as a child. 

“Such a good boy. Chop chop.”


	56. Jim's Thirteenth Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim turns thirteen.

On Jim’s thirteenth birthday, Sebastian woke him up with a grin on his face. 

“No, ‘Bastian. Go away. Tired,” Jim commanded, poking at Sebastian’s chest with his finger. “Tired, tired, tired. I need another hour.” 

“Can’t have another hour. School,” Sebastian reminded him. “Open your eyes.” 

“No,” Jim said for the sake of arguing. He grabbed for Sebastian’s arm and tried to hug it to his body. “Sleep in my bed with me, ‘Bastian. Just for an hour. I’m tiiiiiiired.” 

“Yeah? And so am I. I was up early sorting this lot out.” 

“This lot?” 

“The lot you’d see if you’d open your eyes.” 

Now that was tempting. Jim sighed and cracked open one of his brown eyes. All he could see was Sebastian’s face in perfect focus. The rest didn’t matter. 

“What am I seeing?” 

Sebastian moved to the side of the ladder slightly, to reveal a room covered in banners. 

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Jim asked, although deep down he was. He’d always dreamed of something like this. Something painfully ordinary and cliché and all for him. 

“There are presents,” Sebastian added. 

Jim sat up and kicked his blankets away as though it wasn’t a freezing November morning. 

“I want them now. How many?” 

“Four from me. One from Dawn. And a cake.” 

“Chocolate cake?” 

“Chocolate cake,” Sebastian agreed. “Plus, the post came. You’ve got something from Dublin.” 

“Is it money?” 

“Dunno. I haven’t opened it. It’s addressed to you.” 

“Surely you can feel if it’s money?” 

“Haven’t touched it. Wasn’t my place.” 

“You’re too obedient for your own good,” Jim commented as he scratched at his head and yawned. “Carry me down the ladder,” he decreed importantly, shuffling towards Sebastian and grabbing him. 

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian muttered with a grin as he easily took Jim’s weight. He placed him on his feet on the bedroom floor and then draped him in his dressing gown so he wouldn’t get cold. 

“Presents,” Jim reminded Seb sternly. “You said presents.” 

“You know, you’re probably getting a bit old to get so excited about presents,” Sebastian said as he reached under the desk and pulled out a blue bag. He presented it to Jim with a half-guilty look. Jim could never understand why he looked so embarrassed when he gave him things. 

“So, you’re finally deciding to acknowledge my age, are you, Sebby?” Jim teased as he took the bag greedily, immediately reaching into it to see his presents. They were beautifully wrapped in silver paper. The edges were neatly folded, in Sebastian’s usual style, and they were placed in order of size in the bag. Jim stood up on his tiptoes and kissed Sebastian on the cheek with glee. 

“Can’t ignore it now. Proper teenager,” Sebastian agreed, smiling. “Thirteen years old. Blimey.” 

“Blimey?” Jim repeated as he began ripping open one of the carefully wrapped presents. “Since when have you said blimey? Hm?” 

Sebastian was spared having to answer as Jim let out pleased hum, high praise coming from him. 

“You remembered the smells I like,” Jim said, sounding quite touched. In the first box were three bottles of bubble bath mixture, a very expensive make. Sebastian had most likely stolen them from a posh shop rather than purchased them, but the thought was still the same.

“Lavender, for when you’re stressed,” Seb recited. 

“Yes, very good.” 

“Vanilla, for when you’re in a good mood.” 

“Hm, yes.” 

“Satsuma for when you want to feel fresh.” 

“You’re a very good boy for remembering. I’m impressed,” Jim said with a smile. 

Jim let the paper drop on the floor and Sebastian bent down to pick it up, screwing it up in his large hands and throwing it into the bin in the corner. 

“What’s this?” Jim asked almost accusingly, holding up the second box. He’d torn the paper over the word ‘clock’ printed on the packaging. 

“It’s not just a normal one,” Sebastian said swiftly, sensing Jim’s disappointment. “Take a proper look. I thought it might help you with work stuff.” 

Jim tore open the paper eagerly and saw the clock was both stylish and had a wide range of settings on the back. It was sleek and sliver and just like the bubble bath, looked wonderfully expensive. 

“Tells you the time in all different countries. Well, the main cities, anyway,” Sebastian said. “Berlin, New York, Paris, all over.” 

That definitely would come in useful. At the moment, Jim was dealing with a client from New York, and it would save him a lot of trouble to have the time zones right in front of him. 

Next, Jim picked up the largest parcel. He shook it and smirked. 

“Edible?” he asked. 

“Yep,” Sebastian said, smirking right back at him and looking almost adorably pleased with himself. 

It was an expensive packet of milk chocolate and strawberry truffles, each individual chocolate was shaped like a shell of some sort, and there were plenty of them. 

“Stolen, or bought?” 

“Stolen. Sorry, Jim, but you should have seen the price on them. Mental really.” 

Jim nodded his head. “No, that was wise of you. I’ve got chocolate and that’s what matters.” 

“One left,” Sebastian reminded Jim, gesturing at the bag. 

“You’re most excited about giving me this one,” Jim observed, peering down at the box wrapped in silver paper.

“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed gruffly. He swallowed and waited, blue eyes fixed on Jim. Jim was tempted to take his time, just to see how Sebastian would react, but his own impatience ruined the idea. 

“Oh, ‘Bastian…” Jim breathed as he picked up the item of clothing. 

“You like it?” 

“I love it,” Jim said, lifting the tie up admiringly and placing it against his chest. It was black silk with tiny birds embroidered onto the material. The brand was designer, and it was beautifully made. 

“Thought you could wear it when you see clients. You said people come to see you sometimes, didn’t you? And you’ve got your suit.” 

Jim had finally purchased himself a suit a few weeks ago, nothing overly expensive, but he still took great pride in sauntering around the bedroom in it. Sebastian thought Jim looked pretty hilarious dressed up like a miniature businessman, but he didn’t say so. 

Jim put the tie down on Sebastian’s bed along with his other presents and then strolled up to him, grabbing him by his t-shirt and kissing him on the cheek once again, pulling him down so he was on the right level. 

“You could give me your card now?” Jim suggested in a whisper.

“Birthday card? They’re downstairs on the kitchen-“ 

Jim shook his head. “The card I gave you,” he said quietly. 

“Jim-“ 

“I’m just saying that you could. If you wanted. I wouldn’t mind at all.” 

Sebastian gave an awkward smile and patted Jim on the back. He kissed him on the forehead and drew away. When he looked up again Jim was pouting at him and looking offended, legs crossed neatly as he sat on his bed. 

“I’m a teenager. It wouldn’t be wrong,” Jim pointed out sulkily, reaching for his chocolates and picking one out, cramming it into his mouth with a sigh. 

“It would feel wrong, though,” Seb explained. “To me. For now.” 

“You don’t fancy me, do you?” Jim asked him, sounding deflated and petulant. “Why not, Sebby?” 

Sebastian sat down beside him, and Jim offered him a chocolate, which he declined. He could have done with one, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to accept the offer. Jim liked to keep his chocolate to himself. The offer was manners, nothing more. 

“Because you’re like… like my kid brother,” Sebastian admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t think of you like that.” 

“Am I ugly?” Jim asked seriously, peering at Sebastian inquisitively. “Is that it?” 

“No, ‘course you’re not ugly,” Sebastian assured him. “It’s not that. It’s just…you and me, we’re not supposed to be like that.” 

“What? Kissing and having sex?” 

Sebastian went bright red. Jim grinned. 

“You shouldn’t blush when someone says sex. You’re fifteen,” Jim told him sternly. 

“Can’t help it,” Sebastian mumbled. 

“You’re adorable,” Jim declared fondly, good mood returning to him. He patted Sebastian on the leg and got to his feet. “Oh well. This is a big year anyway. And do you know why?” 

“’Cause you’re a teenager?”

“Noooooooo,” Jim sang. “It’s because it’s the year I get even.” 

“With?”

“You, stupid Sebby. What did you do for the first time when you were thirteen? Hm?” 

Sebastian swallowed. “Killed someone.” 

“Exactly,” Jim praised him, pointing at Sebastian. “And now it’s my turn. Because you can’t beat me, can you? That wouldn’t be right when I’m so much more clever than you are.” 

“Who?” Sebastian asked carefully, inwardly grimacing. 

“Could be anyone at all,” Jim said cheerfully, twirling on the spot. “I’ll know when I see them. But it will have to be soon, because Sebby, I’m booooooored.” 

“You’re always bored,” Seb grumbled. 

“And you’re going to help me,” Jim added. 

“With a murder?” 

“With a murder,” Jim agreed, nodding his head. He smirked and then started to laugh, a high-pitched giggle. “You don’t mind, do you, darling?” 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “I’d rather you didn’t, to be honest,” he said mildly. But then he shrugged. “Your life,” he mumbled. “I’ll help if you want.” 

Jim grinned again. Sebastian was so deliciously broken up by now that the only response he’d drawn from him at the idea of ending a potentially innocent life was vague disapproval. Sebastian was learning. He was well and truly growing up. 

Oh, ‘Bastian, Jim thought to himself. I’m going to make you so so sooooo beautiful…

“Won’t you feel guilty if we kill someone?” Jim asked, tilting his head and using his baby voice. “Sebby darling? Hm? My Sebby?” 

Sebastian swallowed. 

“Yeah, I will a bit. But it depends.” 

“On?” 

“Who. Why. How.” 

“But you won’t stop me? Tell me you won’t, Sebby. Go on. Tell me.” 

The blond sighed, spotting Jim’s manic mood on the way and getting ready for it to wash over him. 

“I won’t stop you,” he agreed. “Unless you’re in danger.” 

“Don’t you worry, darling,” Jim laughed, prancing towards Sebastian and patting him on the chest. He perched on Sebastian’s lap and hugged him tightly. “I’m too clever for that.”


	57. Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim doesn't like being laughed at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobic language.

Jim was really starting to enjoy swimming with Sebastian. By now, Seb had taught him to stay afloat by himself, although he still wasn’t very powerful in the water. He could, however, lay on his back and stay up just by kicking his feet. He found it peaceful, but only when Sebastian drifted along beside him in case he sank under the water by mistake. 

Sebastian was a surprisingly good teacher. He was patient, encouraging, but best of all, he was daft. Big and stupid and funny, making his silly sarcastic jokes and playing the fool for Jim’s amusement.

“I’m going to do a width,” Jim announced, nodding that it was finally time. Sebastian had been nagging at him to try it for weeks, but Jim had been holding it off. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself, even if Sebastian had promised he’d grab hold of him if he looked like he was struggling. 

“Go for it,” Sebastian said, nodding. “You want me next to you, or waiting for you at the other side?” 

Jim pondered that for a moment. 

“You can wait,” Jim decreed. “Although if I start to drown, you’d better get over here and save me, Sebby.” 

“Will do,” Sebastian agreed. He swam easily to the opposite side of the pool and leaned back against the wall, waiting obediently. 

Jim readied himself at the other end. He was going to have to push off the wall so he wouldn’t have to swim so far. Sebastian said that a good start made all the difference, and that you should always use the water to your advantage when you could. He was odd like that, full of wise sporting advice that sounded almost spiritual in places, although if you asked him for specific information, he’d grunt and claim he didn’t know what he was on about. Poor Sebastian had very low confidence, which was why Jim had to distract him in order to get his intelligence out. 

The thirteen year old looked out across the water at Sebastian. He looked encouraging, with a soft smile on his features. Jim imagined completing his task and floating into Sebastian’s arms. He took a breath, blinked slowly, and pushed away from the safety of the edge. 

As Jim swam, Sebastian watched the way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth was set in a firm line. He flailed and kicked out, not looking his usual elegant self at all. It was almost amusing, seeing Jim so out of his element, battling against the water, looking disgusted by the stink of chlorine all around. Every so often he cracked open an eye and fixed Sebastian with an expression Seb could only describe as hungry. Seb raised an eyebrow but didn’t interfere. Jim would be furious if he stepped in without his consent. Jim was similar to him in that respect. They both had an instinct to persevere and succeed. Failure was a word that both despised, and although Sebastian was better at taking criticism than Jim, they both preferred to succeed on their own terms, to prove themselves. 

Finally, the water started to splash Sebastian’s face, and Jim was almost close enough to touch. He still kept kicking, looking awkward and pale and cross. Jim didn’t even seem to realise that he’d reached his goal, and so with a broad grin, Sebastian caught him in his arms and pulled him upright, against his chest. 

“Not bad. I’d give you a seven out of ten,” Sebastian teased. 

Jim finally opened his eyes. For a moment he glared at the familiar brand of sarcasm, but then he smirked, realising where he was. With a single raised eyebrow, the only warning Sebastian got, Jim spat water out of his mouth, right at Seb’s face. 

“That was for making light of my achievement,” Jim admonished cheerfully. “My mouth tastes awful. Like chemicals.” 

“I thought you didn’t spit,” Sebastian said, grinning back at Jim. 

“I never said that I don’t spit,” Jim corrected Seb, poking him on his nose. “I said I don’t like it when other people spit.” 

“You said chavvy,” Seb continued, pushing his luck. 

“But Sebby, darling, I’m not a chav. And I had nasty chlorine in my poor mouth. What was I supposed to do? Hm? You don’t mind, do you?” 

“What? Being spat on?” 

“I won’t make a habit of it,” Jim soothed Seb, bringing up a hand to stroke some of Sebastian’s darkened hair away from his eyes. “Are you incredibly proud of me?” 

Sebastian grinned. 

“Yeah. I’m over the moon. Highlight of my short life.” 

“Very short life,” Jim corrected sweetly. “Unless you tell me sincerely how good I was.” 

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. 

“You were, Jim, absolutely fucking amazing,” he said solemnly. 

“Such a good boy,” Jim told him. He kissed him on the cheek and then let out a squeal as Sebastian lifted him out of the water. 

“Put me down, Moran,” Jim declared, although he couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m warning you.” 

Sebastian gave him a ‘no can do’ expression and grinned. This new special grin of Sebastian’s was crooked. It was perfectly rebellious and naughty, although Jim liked it, because he knew that if he seriously needed or wanted to, he could wipe it off Sebastian’s face and bring him to heel.

Jim liked the way Sebastian’s rough hands felt against his hips, holding him steady and just as carefully and reverently as always. 

The thirteen year old reached down to cup Sebastian’s cheeks, pouting at him.

“Put me down, darling.” 

Sebastian nodded his head and lowered Jim back into his arms. Jim immediately clung to him, wrapping his legs tightly around Sebastian’s hips. He shot Sebastian a challenging expression, and Sebastian’s lips had parted with surprise, when suddenly, Jim heard it. 

A laugh. 

From the cordoned-off area of the pool. 

Jim went pale and let go of Sebastian. Seb, in turn, swallowed and looked down, placing Jim on the edge of the pool. He knew this was their cue to leave. Being laughed at upset Jim beyond anything else. 

“Look, it’s just some idiot,” he said quietly, as he hauled himself out of the pool. Jim didn’t even have the heart to take a look at the way his shirt stuck Sebastian’s body like a second skin. “C’mon. Dawn’ll be waiting anyway. We should go.” 

But Jim’s eyes were fixed on the group of swimmers behind the floating barrier. He knew which one had laughed. He had dark hair and tiny eyes and a gap between his front teeth and Jim hated him. 

Sebastian took Jim by the hand, trying to get him to move. 

“C’mon, Jim. You’ll get cold. Want your towel?” 

Jim didn’t answer, but he allowed himself to be led away to his towel and draped in it by Seb. 

In the changing room, Jim let Sebastian dress him. His expression was dark and shadowed and he refused to speak. Sebastian, who was used to this by now, knew to do the talking for him. He spoke about nothing, only really using his voice to cover the silence, so Jim wouldn’t dwell on it. 

But all Jim could hear was that laugh. The laugh that had ruined his special moment with Sebastian. It had robbed him of ever knowing the next words that would have come out of Sebastian’s surprised mouth. 

When they were dressed, Sebastian picked up both of their bags and led Jim out of the changing room. But Jim shook his head. 

“What?” Seb asked, with a puzzled expression. 

Jim stared at him. Sebastian understood that he wanted to be alone. 

“Alright, but don’t be long. I’ll be back in a minute if you’re not up at the café, okay?” 

Jim nodded, and Sebastian left him, looking over his shoulder as he went, his expression concerned and as always, adoring. 

He waited for a moment, hoping, willing the situation to work naturally to his advantage. And it did. Seconds later, the boy from the cordoned-off area of the pool walked over to the lockers, dripping wet and with a pair of expensive swimming goggles on the top of his head. On his feet were two socks, made of watertight material. Jim noticed his hands looked rough, but not in a good way. Not like Sebastian’s. They looked scabby. Peeling. 

“Boyfriend left you?” the boy asked. His voice was grating. He was overly confident and confrontational. He thought the world loved him. Jim thought he was bringing this on himself. 

“You laughed,” Jim said simply, staring him out. His eyes were dark and intense, getting the measure of the other boy. He was younger than him, but taller and stronger.

“Fags shouldn’t be kissing in a public pool. We don’t want to catch something from you,” he continued. He clearly thought he was witty. Really, Jim could tell he was of below average intelligence. 

“Your name?” Jim inquired coolly. 

“Are you going to report me, baby? I’m only saying what everyone was thinking. It was well gross, you two going at it.” 

“It’s called swimming. Your name,” Jim repeated. 

“Carl,” the boy said, slouching against his locker and making it wet. Jim watched the droplets of water slide down the metal. 

Carl apparently didn’t feel confortable with being stared at by the pale little boy who he thought must be younger than he was. He opened his locker, and Jim caught a flash of a towel that had a label on it reading ‘C.P.’, medication of some sort, a lotion, and a plastic bag containing what looked like an ornament of a London bus. 

He allowed his lips to curl ever so slightly to one side, and then wiped the expression off his face again, leaving it blank. 

“You shouldn’t laugh at people,” Jim said sternly, blinking slowly at Carl. 

The boy closed his locker and shrugged his shoulders. It wasn’t a Sebastian shrug. It was an ignorant, nasty shrug. Jim felt his teeth tingle with disgust. 

“What are you going to do about it?” 

Jim licked his lips. They still tasted of chlorine, but that didn’t matter. He had bigger things to worry about now. 

“Laughing,” Jim repeated quietly. “Is rude.” 

Clearly disconcerted by the Irish boy, Carl made a face and then sauntered off to a changing room, leaving Jim staring after him. 

Jim tilted his head to one side as he went. He noticed the way Carl’s special socks made squelching noises on the ground.

“Jim? You alright?” 

Sebastian was back, looking worried. It seemed to him that Jim was staring into space, that he hadn’t moved. 

The thirteen year old turned to Sebastian with a serious expression. 

“Jim?” 

“There’s a poster on the noticeboard in the entrance hall,” he said to Sebastian calmly. Seb, realising he was being given an order, stood to attention and listened. 

“The one about the next swimming competition. You’re to steal it, but don’t let anyone see you doing so. Do you understand?” 

“No, but I’ll do it,” Sebastian said. 

“Come along, Sebastian. We need to go home,” Jim said quietly, taking Sebastian’s hand and leading him back down the corridor, towards the café. 

Sebastian noticed the normal way in which Jim chattered to Dawn when they met her. The way he complained about the water temperature and told her he felt wet and yucky and he needed a nice bath. He saw Jim demand a chocolate bar from the vending machine near the door. 

But he didn’t say a single word.

As the three of them left, Jim heard a tiny rip which let him know that Sebastian had reached out and torn away the poster just as he’d been told. Such a good boy, Jim mused. The following rustle let him know it was safely stowed in Sebastian’s pocket. 

Dawn opened the back door so Sebastian and Jim could climb inside her tiny car.

Sebastian gave Jim a questioning look, and Jim reached out to press a finger to Sebastian’s chapped lips. 

“Later, ‘Bastian,” he whispered, sounding childish and mischievous. Although there was a darker glint to his eyes that Sebastian couldn’t miss. “I’ll tell you all about it when we’re home.”

“Something’s wrong,” Sebastian said, his breath tickling Jim’s fingertip. 

“Not for us it isn’t,” Jim said calmly. “For someone. But not us.”


	58. Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is fixated on his plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of abuse.

“He’s not actually from London,” Jim told Sebastian. 

“So what was he doing here?” 

“He was with his parents. They were staying at a nearby hotel and he’d been dropped off so he could practice. Apparently he practices every single day. I saw a really ugly London bus ornament in his locker. Only tourists buy that rubbish. We know better.”

Sebastian didn’t comment on the fact that Jim now seemed to be classing himself as an honourary Londoner. It made him feel oddly proud. 

“So where’s he from?” 

“Brighton.” 

Sebastian barely reacted to that at all, not even with Jim’s emphasis on the word. 

“Right.” 

“The gay capital of England,” Jim pointed out, raising his eyebrows at Seb. 

The blond sniffed and when Jim wouldn’t stop looking at him, he shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t give two shits where the gay capital of England was. 

“Never knew that,” he mumbled when it became clear Jim wasn’t going to drop the subject. 

“You’re a bit of a rubbish homosexual really, aren’t you?” Jim drawled in an overly dramatic voice. “Maybe I should paint your nails in rainbow colours? Or I would if you had nails. You shouldn’t keep biting them, Sebby, it’s an awful habit.” 

“Yeah, alright, I get it,” Sebastian grumbled. “Lay off the queer thing.” 

“You’re not still sulking over it, are you?” Jim asked. “Oh, ‘Bastian. I don’t see you any differently just because you sometimes dream about having a nice penis up your bum-“ 

“Jim!” 

Jim started to giggle. “What?” he asked, trying to sound innocent but failing horribly. “You must think about it sometimes. If you don’t think about boobs, then you think about penises.” 

“Christ’s sake…” Sebastian breathed out. 

“I’m thirteen, Seb. I’m allowed to talk about sex as much as I like.” 

“Jim,” Sebastian said lowly. “We’re planning a fucking murder. Can you bloody well stop trying to wind me up?” 

Jim smirked and then forced himself to look solemn, all large eyes and pouting lips. If it wasn’t for those dark eyebrows, which Seb was now absolutely certain Jim was trimming into neat points, he’d have looked positively angelic. 

“I’m sorry I made you think about penises,” he said quietly. “That was very cruel. Will you forgive me?” 

Sebastian knew that he was being played with. Mainly because the word ‘sorry’ never left Jim’s lips with sincere intentions. He had the skill of worming himself out of anything because Sebastian could never stay angry with him for long. 

“Yeah, I will,” Sebastian said gruffly. “And you don’t have to say penises. You could say cocks or something. Sounds a bit scientific.” 

“I am sorry I made you think of cocks,” Jim repeated with wide eyes. Those lashes of his should have been criminal, Sebastian found himself musing. They were long enough to make him look like a baby deer, only there was a certain way his eyes seemed to glint in the light which hinted at something far more dangerous. 

“You didn’t make me think of them,” Seb muttered. “Stop it. We’re talking about the kid you want to do in.” 

Jim gave a long sigh and immediately grew brisk and businesslike again. 

“Yes, Carl. Carl Powers. He thinks he’s going to be in the Olympics.” 

“Do they have the Olympics in Hell?” Sebastian asked. 

Jim laughed at that, pleased by the way Sebastian was throwing himself into this. True, Jim hadn’t actually told Sebastian that Carl was only eleven. Seb was under the impression he was fifteen years old. Jim had also elaborated on their little conversation. Something about how Carl had declared gay people were evil and should die. It was enough to make Sebastian look hurt and then growl. Jim had also made up a story about being grabbed and shaken around, because Sebastian couldn’t stand anyone laying their hands on him. Not since Stanley. 

Poor darling, Jim thought to himself. But what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him…

“I doubt it,” Jim said with a smile. “Now, I want you to tell me exactly what your job is on the special day.” 

It was disconcerting, how Jim kept referring to it as that. His special day. Sebastian thought Jim would have marked it on the calendar if he hadn’t been smart enough to know it could be incriminating. 

“Switch the medication,” Sebastian said easily. He knew this off by heart. “And then steal you a trophy.” 

“Good boy. What mustn’t you do?” 

“Leave fingerprints, take too long, get seen.” 

“What are you going to say if anyone tries to talk to you?” 

“That my name’s Mike Davison, and I’m interested in swimming.” 

“Very good.”

“And he’s just gonna drown?” 

“He’ll have a fit,” Jim explained. “His body will go into shock, and he’ll die.” 

“It’s really that simple?” 

“It is, Sebby. Does it bother you?” 

Sebastian sniffed. 

“No. He’d want us dead, wouldn’t he?” 

“He would.” 

“Then it’s him or us. Fucking bastard should have thought before he started pushing you around.” 

Jim hummed. 

“Tell me the date of my special day, Sebby,” Jim demanded. 

“January fourteenth,” Sebastian recited. The date seemed to be burned into his memory. Jim spoke about it all the time and even mumbled a countdown in his sleep. 

“A Saturday,” Jim agreed.

“Still got a while to wait, then,” Sebastian said needlessly. While everyone else in the home seemed preoccupied with thoughts of Christmas, he and Jim had cut themselves off from the others. Privately, Seb ached to start getting into the festive spirit. He’d always enjoyed Christmas, even if it meant stupid shit like paper chains everywhere and the littler kids whining for presents. He wanted to make it good for Jim, too, although it seemed likely that he’d spend the day focussed on his obsession with the Powers boy. 

“Darling, if you want to go downstairs and start decorating with the pretty tinsel, then you go right ahead,” Jim said with a sigh. “But some of us have actual work to be getting on with.” 

Offended, Sebastian sniffed and shrugged. 

“Don’t care about that stuff. Just think you need a break, that’s all.” 

“Am I boring you with all this talk of murderer? Hm?” Jim asked, fixing Sebastian with an unfathomable stare. 

Sebastian paused, considering his options. There was a right answer, he knew, but it wasn’t the one he wanted to give.

“It’s taken over your head,” Sebastian said carefully. “You talk about it. In your sleep. I can hear you.” 

“I talk in my sleep?” Jim asked curiously. He looked worried and Sebastian immediately regretted revealing that little piece of information. 

“Yeah, sometimes.” 

“About?” 

“Carl,” Sebastian said vaguely. 

“No, you’re lying,” Jim said instantly. “Tell me the truth. What do I talk about?” 

Sebastian felt sick. He shouldn’t have opened his big fucking mouth. 

“You sort of… I dunno, you whimper.” 

Horrified, Jim’s eyes widened and then narrowed. 

“Go on,” he commanded. 

“You… beg. Plead and stuff. At least you used to. Before the Carl thing.” 

Jim went silent and stood up. He walked over to the window and clasped his hands behind his back. Sebastian could tell he was just thinking, not admiring the winter scenery. 

“And you’d rather I went back to the pleading?” Jim asked eventually. “Is that what you like to hear? Me pleading not to get raped?” 

“No,” Sebastian breathed, his stomach lurching suddenly. Jim never spoke about Stanley, and he’d never given what happened its true name.

“Do you get a kick out of it? Being big and strong? My saviour?” 

Jim’s tone was icy, and Sebastian felt like he’d taken a rusty knife to the gut. 

“Jim, I’d do anything to stop you thinking about it. Anything,” Sebastian said quietly, his voice low and honest, bordering on desperate. “I’d have switched our places in a second if I could. I’d have taken that for you. I’d have died if it meant stopping it. You think I don’t dream about it too? ‘Cause I fucking do. It’s my worst fucking nightmare, only it actually happened and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” 

“Oh, poor little you,” Jim chuckled, spinning around to fix Sebastian with another stare. “You’re really tugging at my heartstrings today, ‘Bastian.” 

Sebastian stared back at Jim. He was panting, broad chest heaving with the emotion he’d learned to suppress. 

“Carl is my distraction, and I need distractions to survive,” Jim explained simply. “You read books when you’re stressed. You run on your treadmill. I can’t do any of that. I need something to stimulate my mind, not my body. Can’t you understand?” 

Sebastian swallowed hard. 

“I think you’re taking it too far. I’m scared you’re gonna make yourself ill,” he ventured to say. He knew he’d made a stupid decision when Jim pranced balletically towards him and then slapped him across the face, leaving a stinging mark on his right cheek. 

“The thing is, Sebby darling, that I don’t care what you think,” Jim said sweetly. “I’m going to kill Carl, and you’re going to help me. Do I make myself clear?” 

Sebastian’s first instinct was to argue. He wanted to grab Jim and shake some sense into him. Seb didn’t care about the murder, he could take it or leave it. What he cared about was Jim’s mental wellbeing, and Jim was slipping again. He was teetering on the edge of sanity, and Seb knew it was only a matter of time before he overbalanced. 

But if he let Jim down, he could trigger that reaction even more quickly. Jim was better with him. He always had been. Even if now he was older he was getting increasingly difficult to guide, protect, and control. He was manic, he was determined, and his superior intellect left Sebastian powerless to do anything but stand at his side and try his damned hardest to stop him from getting hurt by any backlash, from getting caught in his own crossfire. 

“Crystal,” Sebastian found himself saying, through gritted teeth. 

Jim beamed at him, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“We’re going to have a lovely Christmas,” Jim declared cheerfully. “And then we’re going to enjoy my special day. Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes,” Sebastian said.


	59. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian celebrate Christmas together.

On Christmas morning, much to Sebastian’s relief, Jim seemed to finally be torn from his thoughts of Carl Powers. The previous night he had fallen asleep muttering to himself, and Sebastian hadn’t had the heart to try and work out exactly what he was saying. 

Sebastian was glad to see that despite Jim officially being a teenager and his telling that to anyone who cared to listen, he still experienced the same childish glee upon seeing his pile of presents on Christmas morning as he had at age nine.

The blond remembered his first Christmas with Jim. The littler boy’s eyes had grown as wide as saucers as he’d spotted his presents from ‘Santa’ and he’d almost fallen out of the top bunk in his scrambling haste to get to his gifts, as though he was scared they’d be taken away from him if he didn’t get there quickly enough.

Jim had been skinny then, even more so than now. Underfed, he was all angles, pointy elbows and knobbly knees that seemed to shake as he moved. Sebastian remembered looking at him, the size of a six year old, and wondering at how he simultaneously managed to look like a baby animal in need of care, while still retaining a malicious spark in his eyes to warn off anyone who dared to pity him. 

The teenager that clambered sleepily down from his bed this morning was entirely different. Sebastian, who liked to sleep in when he could, watched Jim as he approached his presents. He was taller now, obviously, but physical changes were starting to happen as well. The way he moved had changed completely, and he was more certain and sure of himself. 

Sebastian remembered being constantly worried about that strange little boy from Ireland. Scared he’d get bullied or teased or beaten up. Seb supposed that hadn’t changed at all. He still spent his free moments thinking about Jim, trying to figure out new ways to protect him from others, but more worryingly, his own self-destructive behavior which came with his black moods. 

“You’re staring at me,” Jim said with a yawn, not turning to Sebastian, instead sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor so he could pull his presents towards him and examine them. 

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Sebastian said groggily with a slight grin. He knew Jim would hear it in his voice, even without seeing his face. 

Jim chuckled and began unwrapping gifts with reckless abandon. He didn’t savour his presents the way Seb always wanted to. Sebastian liked to smooth his fingers over each present and line them up, something Jim said was a waste of time. When Jim opened presents, he always ended up in a sort of nest of screwed up and torn wrapping paper. It drove Seb up the wall. He hauled himself out of bed so he could stop the room from becoming a complete tip and went to sit beside Jim. 

“I don’t know why they write ‘Santa’ on the tags,” Jim mused as he tore open a packet of chocolate coins and began stuffing them into his mouth. He didn’t bother about saving any for later, because he knew Sebastian would have the same in his own pile, and he’d give his to Jim anyway. 

“For the little kids, I guess,” Sebastian answered, picking up the discarded paper and chucking it into the bin. Jim noticed that he hit his target every single time. 

Jim was clearly a boy that had never been used to waking up to a pile of presents. Sebastian knew that growing up in Ireland he hadn’t had much money, and he supposed this was still a bit of a surprise to him, even if the home couldn’t afford to give them anything particularly impressive. Although Jim didn’t speak much about Dublin, he had revealed to Seb that his only toys had been second hand and the other children around the estate broke them for fun. 

Sebastian remembered Christmas very differently indeed. It was one of the only memories he had of his parents, and he treasured it, even though it was painful to think about now. For years it had been blurry in his mind, more of a feeling inside him than anything else, but somehow, watching Jim greedily surrounding himself with presents, the memory started to become clearer. 

Unless his mind had made it up, he thought he could recall waking up on Christmas morning in a comfy bed with navy blue sheets. In his memory, it had astronauts and planets printed on the material. At the end of the bed was a pillowcase full of presents. Seb remembered climbing out of bed to examine them, then deciding to be a big, strong boy and impress his Father by hauling them down the corridor and into his parents’ bedroom. 

It was a difficult task, but he managed somehow, despite being small and having to use all his energy to get the pillowcase to go where he wanted it to. He remembered his determination and his desperation for his Father to see what he’d managed to achieve. 

When he entered the room his mother looked sleepy and soft, blonde hair all over her pillow, and Father had been facing the other way, so Sebastian couldn’t see him properly. 

He’d worried about waking them up, in case Father got angry, because he did that a lot, sometimes for little things that left Sebastian confused and scared. But this time things were different because his mother opened her eyes, which were large and brown (Sebastian had never recalled that detail before) and she gave him a sleepy smile. 

Father had grunted something about it being an obscene hour, but then he’d nodded at Sebastian, so Seb knew things were okay, and his mother had lifted him into her lap for a cuddle… 

“Earth to Sebastian,” Jim drawled, waving his slender fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. 

“Yeah? What?” Seb said quickly, swallowing down any emotion that had come with that sudden jolt of a memory. 

“Don’t be defensive,” Jim chastised gently. “You were zoning out. You’re ignoring all your lovely presents, and I think that’s very cruel of you, seeing as I bought you one especially.” 

The blond shook himself out of his stupor, even though his chest was aching, and he gave Jim a weak smile. Jim didn’t return it because he wasn’t looking. He was frowning at the customary orange wrapped in tissue paper sitting in front of him. Jim hated fruit, unless chocolate was involved in some way. 

Jim’s present to Sebastian was an antique copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, one of Sebastian’s favourite plays. The pages were beautifully yellowed and crisp, and there were even ink illustrations of the characters. 

“Verdict?” Jim asked, trying to keep the pride out of his voice and not succeeding. He’d already seen the reverent way Sebastian’s rough fingers traced the book’s cover. 

“It’s brilliant,” Seb breathed. “Really brilliant. Cheers, Jim.” 

Sebastian’s present to Jim was a pair of silver cufflinks, stolen from another posh London shop. Jim nodded at them approvingly and hummed. They were in the shape of stars, because Jim loved the solar system so much. 

The boys emerged downstairs for Christmas lunch looking like a very odd pair indeed. Jim wore his miniature business suit with a silk tie and his new cufflinks. Sebastian traipsed along beside him in a large scruffy hoodie and jeans. Jim’s hair was gelled back perfectly, and Sebastian’s own blond hair stood up at odd angles, as though he’d just run his fingers through it.

Jim didn’t eat much of his lunch, as usual, but he did have two helpings of chocolate pudding and helped himself to the bowl of sweets on the side for the special occasion. Sebastian ate everything on his plate and was allowed extra turkey. 

Sebastian and Jim pulled their crackers together, winning a pack of playing cards and a miniature jigsaw puzzle. Harry wanted Sebastian to pull his cracker with him, but Jim wouldn’t allow that. Looking disappointed, Harry trudged off to find someone else. 

Unfortunately for Sebastian, but much to Jim’s delight, they also unearthed two paper crowns which Jim insisted they wear. Jim’s was bright yellow, and he wore it proudly atop his dark hair. Oddly enough, Seb thought it quite suited him. Sebastian ended up wearing his purple, crumpled up, slightly lopsided paper crown all day as well, just to please Jim. 

Dawn appeared after lunch looking bright and happy, wearing a brand new necklace which Jim told Seb must have been a gift from Raj. She’d just come from a family dinner with Raj, his uncles, and his nephews, and even Sebastian noticed the way her eyes lit up with joy. He would have felt a bit jealous that she was starting to become part of another family, but Jim distracted him just in time to hold off his grumpy mood.

Along with the usual chocolates for each child, she had a camera with her today, and wanted to take pictures of the children. Jim and Sebastian deliberately stayed out of any group shots, which left Sebastian feeling relieved, thinking he’d escaped the embarrassment. But that didn’t last long. 

“Boys, did you two want your picture taken?” Dawn asked when the others had cleared off. 

Seb looked doubtful and tried to slink away, but Jim grabbed his hand firmly and beamed.

“Yes, Dawn. We do. Come on, Sebby. Smile.” 

Sebastian had no choice but to allow himself to be dragged onto the sofa. Jim perched on his lap with his arms around his neck and smiled at the camera. Seb gave more of an embarrassed sort of grimace as the camera flashed and clicked.

When the photo was developed later, it struck Dawn how possessive Jim’s fingers were around Sebastian’s neck, and how gentle and supportive Seb’s own large hands were on Jim’s skinny hips. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

That night, when Jim and Sebastian had retreated to their bedroom to avoid the other children singing carols and playing games downstairs, Jim beckoned Sebastian to him. Jim was standing in the centre of the room with one hand hidden behind his back. Wary but obedient, Sebastian abandoned his book and walked towards him. 

“Close your eyes and stay still,” Jim commanded quietly. Sebastian swallowed and then did as he was told.

Jim looked at Sebastian standing there with his eyes closed. He took in Seb’s height and his jawline and his unflinching hands. His fingers didn’t even twitch. He was perfectly still and perfectly silent. 

The thirteen year old smiled and then stood up on his tiptoes, holding up the arm that had been behind his back. He held a piece of mistletoe in his right hand, and using his left as leverage, he grabbed Sebastian’s shoulder and leaned up to whisper in Sebastian’s ear. 

“Merry Christmas, ‘Bastian,” he said, holding the mistletoe above his head. But he didn’t press his lips to Sebastian’s. He stood on flat feet again and kissed two of his own fingers. Then he pressed the digits to Sebastian’s chapped lips. 

Sebastian opened his eyes, confused, not sure what was happening. He looked down at Jim’s fingers and then back up to Jim’s eyes, remaining oddly silent.

“I didn’t kiss you with my mouth, do you know why?”

Seb shook his head slightly, careful not to dislodge Jim’s fingers.

“No.”

“Because the first time we kiss properly, you’re going to really, really want it. You’re going to want it so much you can’t keep your hands off me. You’re going to dream about it, and you’re going to ache for it. That’s why.” 

Finally, Jim withdrew his fingers and nodded at Sebastian, as though he’d imparted great wisdom. 

“Jim-“ Sebastian muttered, eyes sad.

“Hush, ‘Bastian,” Jim commanded quietly. “Don’t ruin things.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

New Year’s Eve was spent watching the fireworks together. Jim still hadn’t lost his fascination for them.

Sebastian cleared the desk and then sat on it. Jim climbed up and plopped himself into Sebastian’s lap. Seb didn’t complain. It wasn’t like he was heavy, and Jim’s body was cold. It always was. Whereas Jim told him his own body was like a heater.

“Are you ready for everything to change?” Jim asked, leaning back comfortably against Sebastian’s chest. 

“Not sure,” Seb admitted, as he watched a blue firework explode in the distance.

“Because it will, Sebby,” Jim said quietly. “It’s all going to change this year. Everything.”

His soft Irish lilt was tinged with mania. Sebastian hated what that meant but tried to ignore it. 

“Am I scaring you?” Jim whispered, reaching around and taking one of Sebastian’s hands. 

“You don’t scare me,” Seb said honestly. “I get scared for you. That’s about it.” 

Jim hummed and nestled his head into the space below Sebastian’s chin. “Will you ever be scared of me?” 

Sebastian sniffed. 

“No. Never.” 

“Is that because you’ve seen me crying and wetting the bed?” Jim asked. “Have I lost all my edge? Hm?” 

“You’re just not scary,” Sebastian explained. “Not to me. You’re my best mate.” 

“Your best mate who you love,” Jim corrected him sternly. 

“My best mate who I love,” Seb agreed tiredly. 

Jim gave a long sigh and relaxed against Sebastian, intertwining their fingers as they watched the London sky explode with colours.

“I’m going to kill a boy,” Jim said eventually. “Isn’t that scary?”  


Sebastian paused, thinking that over. It should have been scary. It should have filled him with guilt and dread. But the only pain he felt when thinking about the murder was that Jim might end up in prison or get taken away from him. 

“Not a very nice boy, though,” he managed to say, tone gruff. “Can’t be helped.” 

Jim smirked to himself. He took hold of Sebastian’s other hand as well and wrapped both of Seb’s lovely arms around his body. 

“It all belongs to us,” he whispered cryptically. 

Sebastian didn’t know if he was talking about the year to come or the city they were both gazing out at.


	60. Jim's Special Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian attend the Tony Higgins Cup swimming competition.

Jim and Sebastian caught three busses on January fourteenth, and then sneaked onto the tube. They were headed for Haringey, North London, a place neither of the two boys had ever been before. Sebastian had studied his maps well in advance, though, and Jim trusted him to get them to their destination. 

They travelled mostly in silence. Jim had fallen into one of his most intense moods and sat looking out of the bus windows, glaring out at the city, at the grey parts and the scummy parts, all so different from his beloved West End. Sebastian sat beside him, straight-backed and grim. He wanted to relax, but he was full of adrenaline. Jim needed him to be alert and on his guard, and there was no way in hell he was going to let his best friend down. 

Sebastian wondered if Jim thought that them talking might give them away, but he was quickly proved wrong when Jim asked him how long they’d be on the bus for. He used a voice that was not his own. It sounded more like Sebastian’s own voice, rougher, less refined, no trace of his usual lilt. Afraid of running things, Sebastian mumbled his response and then looked down at his knees. He was no good with fake voices or acting. He was good at following instructions and that was about it, or so he thought. 

Jim was dressed in simple clothes, a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. There was nothing at all memorable about him, and Sebastian even noticed he slouched when he walked. He blended right in with the other people rushing around and Sebastian was suddenly hit with the realisation of what they were doing. Jim was a pro. Jim was ready. But what was he? Trying to follow Jim’s lead, he shortened his own strides and started to swing his arms more. Jim graced him with an appraising smirk and then went back to his previous expression. 

The Atwill-Porter Baths in Bounds Green looked like just about any other sports centre Sebastian had ever seen. And it seemed like just about any other day Sebastian had ever lived through, too. It was cold, typical London weather, and dark. The January chill would usually have made Jim cling to him like a limpet, but all Jim did in response to the cold was put his pale hands in his jeans pockets. 

As they got closer to the entrance, they joined the milling crowd of spectators who were queuing to give in their tickets or buy them. The atmosphere was one of excitement and nerves. Families wore badges with various names on, and coaches stood proudly, conversing with each other. Sebastian smelled the familiar whiff of chlorine which meant they were getting closer to the pool. Jim didn’t even flinch at one of his most hated smells. 

Seb paid up and offered the woman at the door a tiny smile, receiving two tickets in return. Sebastian shoved them into his pocket. Jim would want them for later. As trophies. That was if all went to plan. 

They were hit by the familiar wave of heat that came with swimming pools as they entered the main building. Sebastian found the warmth comforting, having always responded well to warm climates. He felt energised. An unfamiliar shot of something wild and dangerous travelled through his body. He couldn’t admit to himself that it was a thrill.

Wanting to avoid getting drawn into any sports talk, Jim and Sebastian slipped through the crowds, climbing up the stairs to reach the balcony that overlooked the main pool. Sebastian was already wondering how the hell they were going to get away with switching Carl’s medication, but Jim seemed to know exactly what they were doing. He selected he and Sebastian two seats near the back, so they could make a quick exit if need be, but still with a good view of the pool. Sebastian wondered if Jim would want to watch what transpired or if it would be enough for him to leave the spectators to observe the horror. 

Seb was left with the distinct impression that Jim was keeping certain elements of the plan to himself. Next time he was going to demand more info. 

Next time…

“You’ve got twenty minutes,” Jim said quietly to Sebastian, still using his fake voice, even though there was nobody close enough to hear them converse. There were a few kids and their mother five seats away, but the woman was preoccupied with the youngest child, and the other two were arguing. Sebastian wondered if they were here to support Carl. If they were his little brother and sisters. How would they feel seeing their big brother die right before their young eyes?

“They’re not,” Jim whispered sharply, reading Sebastian’s mind. “He’s an only child.” 

That put Sebastian’s mind at ease and he felt a new wave of confidence.

“Twenty minutes. Down the stairs. Second door on your left. Wait until they start the speech. You’ll have about five minutes to be in and out. Understood?” 

“Understood,” Sebastian repeated. 

They didn’t speak again for a long while. Jim pretended, skillfully in Seb’s opinion, to be interested in a programme he found on the chair in front of him. Sebastian just chewed on the inside of his cheek and kept clicking his knuckles as he waited. 

The audience began to take their seats, the atmosphere growing. A plump man sat down in front of Jim, and Sebastian was about to offer to switch so that Jim could see better, but Jim shook his head. Seb realised it made things easier for him. Nobody would notice him now. There was a balcony opposite their own, but this way Jim would be mostly obscured. 

Finally, a man in a suit stepped out in front of the crowds, down next to the pool. He walked past odd booths with red and blue curtains draped over them, and everyone went silent as he made his progress. Jim sat up eagerly in his seat, playing the perfect little spectator. But his hand wandered to Sebastian’s thigh and gave it a squeeze. 

That was the signal. It meant: now. It meant: good luck. It meant: don’t you dare disappoint me. 

Sebastian got up, dusted down his jeans, and causally slinked back down the stairs. Nobody noticed him go. 

He could hear the man announcing the swimmers and the crowd roaring in support of the boys. 

“Welcome to the Tony Higgins Cup!” the man said jovially, his voice echoing through the large room. He was Welsh, judging by his accent. Sebastian kept on moving, keeping his ears open so he could judge how much time he had left. He wasn’t wearing his watch. Jim had thought the army print strap could be too well remembered by witnesses. 

“Held, as always, at the Atwill-Porter Baths! Now, as you all know, this prestigious competition was founded twelve years ago and was designed to reward excellence in youth sports. And we certainly have some excellent young sportspeople here today!” 

Another cheer. Whistling. 

Sebastian thought he could hear Jim’s own voice amongst the others, but he couldn’t be sure. 

He found the room he was looking for. The changing rooms were currently empty, and unlocked too. Perfect. 

Which fucking idiot thought it would be a good idea to leave the room unattended? Sebastian felt a surge of spite through his veins. Served them right, really. Amateurs. 

Sebastian needed to find the belongings of Carl Powers, or failing that, locate his locker. In there would be his medication, meant to be taken twenty minutes before swimming. There were a large number of competitions happening throughout the day, and Carl’s race didn’t happen for almost an hour yet.

The task was even easier than Sebastian had anticipated. He spotted a towel right near the showers with the initials ‘C.P,’ sewn onto it. Right next to that was a lunchbox. Unlikely he’d leave his lunch in the changing rooms, Seb thought, when there was a canteen doing free food. Must’ve been where he kept his medication and lotions. Jim had said he’d likely have a bag or a box in which to house his eczema kit. 

“Among our young swimmers today, we have some well-known talent!” the man was saying now. The line-up was starting. Sebastian didn’t have much time. 

“Barty McMillan, Peter Driver, Jagbir Gupta!” 

Sebastian slipped on his black leather gloves and opened the lunchbox. He ignored the image of Han Solo on the front. Carl was not a boy today. He wasn’t a fellow human being who liked Star Wars, just the same as Seb. Sebastian couldn’t afford to think that way. Jim had told him so. 

Inside the box was the medication Sebastian was looking for. Simple as that. Along with two lotions and a good luck card, presumably from his family. Sebastian reached into the deep pockets of his jeans and pulled out the medication Jim had earlier prepared, meticulously crafting his weapon. He’d used the science labs at his special school and taken great pride in his creation. 

It was sealed in a sandwich bag, to keep away any fingerprints or DNA, and Sebastian was careful to keep it that way as he switched the bottles. Carl took his medication in liquid form, which pleased Jim because it meant he hadn’t had to call in any favours. Replicating tablets was far more difficult than adding a little something to a chemical mixture, at least that was what Jim had told him. 

“Brandon Gendry!” the man boomed, as cheers continued. “Ryan Clarke! Anthony Greenwood! And one of our most exciting new talents and hot favourite, Carl Powers!” 

The room seemed to explode with applause. Sebastian definitely heard Jim’s voice that time. He found himself smirking as he closed the lunchbox and stowed the real medication back in his pocket. 

Not much time left. He had to get back to Jim. But first he needed a trophy. 

The good luck card wouldn’t be of any interest to Jim. It was too sentimental, dull. The towel was useless and too difficult to carry. Think, Sebastian, think, think, think, he told himself as the man by the pool kept on talking. Babbling away about prestige and sportsmanship, the value of fair play, and encouraging young talent.

“Now, without further ado, I think it’s high time we got on with the competition! Ladies and gentlemen, we’re starting with the two hundred metres breaststroke!” 

With no time left, all too aware the swimmers would be trooping back to the changing rooms to wait, Sebastian took one last frantic look at the bench in front of him. 

And then he saw them. 

Trainers. A new pair of trainers. They looked expensive, a posh sports brand. Two blue stripes across them caught Sebastian’s attention, and acting on pure instinct, because he could hear footsteps approaching, he grabbed hold of them, shoved them in the bag he had screwed up in his pocket, and then all but ran from the room. 

He returned to Jim two minutes later looking casual. He took his seat again, kicked the carrier bag with the trainers in underneath his chair, and tried to take an interest in the current race. Jim reached out and ran his fingers down Sebastian’s leg, feeling the bulge in his pocket which meant he had Carl’s medication. He patted Seb’s knee by way of praise and gave him a quick glance. Sebastian felt certain his eyes had glinted a sickening black. 

Sebastian would usually have enjoyed watching the swimming. The kids involved were pretty good, and Sebastian found himself subconsciously trying to pick up techniques from them. But he couldn’t relax properly. His skin burned guiltily, his heart pounding right up in his ears as he waited for the race to be stopped, for someone to announce that the medication had been switched, that the police were on their way. 

Jim stroked his fingers up and down Sebastian’s arm soothingly during all the races they were forced to sit through. That touch grounded Seb, and when he felt the sudden urge to bolt from the room, he focused on those gentle strokes, the way Jim’s fingers brushed his skin over and over. 

“Fantastic swim! Fantastic swim!” the man said loudly, as a boy with a red swimming cap on was cheered by the audience. 

Before the man had spoken his next words, Sebastian knew it was time. Jim’s fingers had stilled on his skin. 

“The one thousand metres Freestyle is about to commence!” the man shouted, and the crowd went wild. Sebastian didn’t even recognise Carl Powers by his face as the swimmers trooped out together. He could only tell it was him because he got the loudest cheer. 

He looked shorter than Sebastian had thought he’d be. Slighter, too. He supposed he was small for his age, same as Jim. 

Sebastian went completely still, watching with grim fascination as the boys got ready to start. Jim was perfectly still as well, but with complete and utter rapt attention. His eyes were fixed hungrily on the pool from behind the shoulder of the man sitting in front of him. Seb swallowed and waited. 

The race started. The boys began to swim. The crowd roared. Carl started to pull ahead, taking an early lead. He was a great swimmer, that much was for certain. Even Sebastian found himself with an odd respect for his talent, before he reminded himself what he was here for. 

Nobody seemed to challenge Carl for a while. The race continued, the cheers intensifying. Still no developments. Had it been too long? Surely it had? The attempt had failed. Jim was going to be livid…

And then it happened. Carl stopped. For a moment he floated. Went rigid. The crowd cried out with surprise and encouragement as their favourite swimmer paused. His body began to shake. He began to sink beneath the water. The other swimmers passed him, unaware of what was happening. 

A woman sitting two rows away from Sebastian and Jim let out a piercing scream. The room started to become aware something was wrong. A whistle was blown. The medical team ran up to the pool and jumped in. The other swimmers gradually caught on and began to stop moving, treading water to see what was happening. Children started to cry. The room went from horrified silence to nervous chatter as Carl was dragged out of the pool. 

He’d gone limp. His eyes had rolled back into his head. 

Sebastian was still watching with a strange sense of elation, one he wasn’t proud of, when he felt Jim’s fingers brush over his wrist. 

“I think it’s time we were going,” he said quietly. Sebastian blinked and swallowed, snapping immediately and obediently out of his previous state. Several parents carried their children away from the balconies, sensing a tragedy, and Sebastian and Jim slipped away amongst them, Seb clutching his carrier bag in his hands. 

They didn’t speak all the way home. Sebastian kept wanting to say something, to ask Jim what he was feeling. What he wanted most of all was praise, as pathetic as he knew that was. He wanted to be told he’d done a good job. Only Jim could soothe the nervous guilt settling heavy in his stomach. 

It was only when the bedroom door had closed behind them a long time later, after busses and trains and walking, that Jim suddenly shifted. His expression, previously fixed and firm, suddenly grew wild, joyful, exhilarated. 

“Oh, Sebastian!” he sighed, looking positively elated. The way he spoke Seb’s name sounded almost obscene. He breathed it out like a groan. 

“Happy?” Sebastian asked quietly, still clutching the bag with the trainers in. 

Jim nodded his head and started to giggle. He was turning manic, uncontrollably manic. It was how he got when he neglected to take his tablets, only Sebastian was sure he’d taken them this morning. 

“I win,” he laughed, pointing accusingly at Sebastian, eyes glinting. “Oh, ‘Bastian. ‘Bastian that was the best. I haven’t felt so good in a very, very long time…” 

He skipped up to Sebastian and pried the carrier bag out of his hands. He glanced at the trainers inside and wrinkled up his nose at them. 

“Tasteless and nasty and finished, just like their owner,” Jim declared loudly. “Oh, Sebastian. Oh, Sebby…” 

Sebastian took the bag back from Jim. He walked over to the wardrobe and stowed the shoes away, right behind his boxing gloves. He knew the plan already. On Monday, Jim would hand them over to the people at his school and have them put into storage for a later date. That part of the plan Seb was well aware of. Whatever Sebastian won for Jim as his trophy, would be shipped away and kept safe so that Jim could know it was his for always. 

When Sebastian turned away from the wardrobe Jim hurtled towards him. He wrapped his skinny arms around Sebastian’s frame and nestled against his chest. 

“You’re so perfect, ‘Bastian,” Jim breathed out, kissing Sebastian’s torso, even though it was covered by his hoodie. “You didn’t get caught. Nobody even suspected. You’re born to it. Just like me. I knew you could manage it. Such a good, good boy. My lovely, ‘Bastian. Lovely Sebby. So good…” 

The words were like music to Sebastian’s ears. He needed that. That praise. He needed to feel valued and appreciated and like he’d done a good job. Seb patted Jim on the back and kissed him on the top of his head. 

“I’m going to reward you for this,” Jim drawled, his chest heaving with excitement. “Oh, Sebby… I’m going to give you the entire world. Would you like that, darling?” 

“Don’t need the entire world,” Sebastian grunted, stroking Jim’s dark hair, trying to soothe him. 

“But you’ll have it,” Jim said swiftly, looking up at his best friend. His eyes were large and dark and spiteful. But beyond everything else they were adoring. Sebastian felt the full force of Jim’s love like a tidal wave. 

“Jim-“ 

“You’re feeling something,” Jim declared quietly, giggling. “I can see it in your eyes, darling. Don’t try to hide it.” His voice was childish, sing-song, playful. It made Sebastian uncomfortable. 

“You’re going to deny it, sweetheart, but you can feel it. You like killing people. You like that a lot. But most of all, do you know what you like? Do you?” 

Sebastian swallowed. Jim’s embrace no longer felt comforting. 

“Tell me.” 

“You like impressing me. Because you’re mine,” Jim said easily, nuzzling back into Sebastian’s chest and muttering his name over and over and over. 

“Yours?” 

“Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine,” Jim agreed, grabbing for Sebastian even more tightly and trying to climb up his body. 

Sebastian sighed and helped Jim make his ascent, holding Jim up just as easily as he would have done when they were kids, with an arm supporting Jim’s bum. 

“Oh, ‘Bastian,” Jim breathed, resting his forehead against Sebastian’s. He was squirming with exhilaration. “My ‘Bastian who only spoke in two words. With the pretty blond hair and blue eyes…” 

“C’mon, Jim,” Sebastian grunted, knowing Jim would go on and on like this until he stepped in to calm him down. 

“Where are we going, Sebby?” 

“Bath,” Seb mumbled. “Vanilla bubbles. I’ll wash your hair for you.” 

“Two people aren’t allowed in the bathroom at once,” Jim reminded Sebastian, his face still so close Seb could feel his breath against his face. 

“Fuck them,” Sebastian said decisively. “You want a bath, you’ll bloody get one.” 

“Because you always get me what I want,” Jim whispered lovingly. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian ran Jim his bath, warm and full of bubbles and stinking of vanilla. Jim had always had a sweet tooth and favoured sugary smells. Seb found it almost overpowering, but he was getting used to it. 

Jim stepped in obediently. Sebastian noticed he wasn’t embarrassed about showing his body at all. Not today. He didn’t make any move to cover himself, just pointed is toes and dunked them into the water, testing it. When he judged the temperature was acceptable he climbed in and sank into the bubbles with a sigh. 

The blond sat on the bathroom floor with his back to the radiator. It was soothing in the cold weather to have that heat against his skin, to lazily watch Jim bathing. He washed himself like a little emperor, lathering his pale body in bubbles. 

Eventually, Jim spoke. 

“Have you ever heard of an SOS?” 

“’Course I have,” Sebastian answered. “It’s a distress signal. In Morse code.” 

Sebastian waited for Jim to elaborate on that thought, but he didn’t. He hummed to himself and started to leisurely wash his arms. 

“Jim?” 

“Now, I wait,” Jim said simply. 

Sebastian wasn’t going to let him leave it there. He thought he’d earned the right to know what was going on by now. 

“You wait? Jim, what’re you on about?” 

Jim giggled. He sounded mad. 

“It’s a message, silly Sebastian, darling. It’s my beacon of light. It’s a lighthouse on the stormy, stormy seas. That was poetic, wasn’t it? Did you like it? You love poetry, don’t you, Sebby? All those old words and your precious Shakespeare. And you love pretty things. Is that why you don’t love me?” 

It was too late. Jim was slipping again. Sebastian gave a pained sigh and tried to cut through Jim’s words in his head, getting to the point. That was part of the game, wasn’t it? It was a test. With Jim things were always a test. 

“I do love you,” Sebastian reassured him firmly. “You know I do.” 

“In all the wrong ways,” Jim declared, and then chuckled again. 

“You need sleep,” Sebastian said swiftly.

“You always say sleep,” Jim drawled, kicking his pale legs out of the water and examining them. “Sleep little baby, Jim. Okay, Daddy Sebastian. Will you tuck me in and read me a story?” 

Sebastian felt physically sick. 

“You’re not well, Jim,” he forced himself to say, ignoring those mocking tones. “I thought you took your tablets this morning?” 

“They aren’t strong enough to get it out of me,” Jim informed Sebastian seriously, turning to face him for a moment. 

“Get what out?” 

Jim paused, his body very still, and then he suddenly laughed, his slender body shaking with mirth. Sebastian felt his own mirroring smile die on his face, turn sour in the pit of his stomach. 

“You think I’m mad,” Jim sang childishly. “But you’re even madder.” 

“I’m not mad,” Sebastian said through gritted teeth. “Neither are you. You’re just… tired.” 

“I killed a boy because I wanted to,” Jim said quietly. “But you helped me kill that boy just because it would make me smile. Oh, ‘Bastian. You’re a nasty boy all wrapped up in goodness.” 

“You’re not making sense,” Sebastian insisted, shaking his head. “C’mon. Get out now. I’ll wash your hair in the morning.” 

“Yes, Daddy Sebastian,” Jim mocked him, pouting like a young child. 

“Stop it.” 

“Never,” Jim sang back, sticking out his tongue. 

“You’re thirteen fucking years old,” Sebastian grunted out, eyes narrowed. He couldn’t cope with this. Being played with. 

“Don’t be cross, darling,” Jim told Sebastian, suddenly returning to his usual tones, superior and vaguely patronising. This change of demeanor soothed Sebastian again and he relaxed. “You’re a good boy, really. I shouldn’t tease.” 

Seb swallowed and went to grab Jim’s towel for him. 

“Soon we’ll see exactly who’s listening,” Jim told Sebastian firmly. “And then we can really start to play.”


	61. Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim finds his mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobic language and the usual language warning.

Sebastian was back at school by now, allowed to attend but on internal exclusion, which meant he worked alone in the library or in empty classrooms, watched over by teaching assistants. It was boring, but in a way, Sebastian was relieved to not have to come face to face with his year group. He knew the rumours were flying by now. That he was a queer. A faggot. He’d heard it whispered behind his back, and although the boys were too afraid to actually fight him or beat him up, they were happy to openly mock him. Fucking cowards.

He could have taken them in a fair fight. He could have taken all of them. He wasn’t scared to put them in their place. But right now he knew he had to focus on catching up on lost work. Jim needed him to get the best grades he possibly could. 

Sophie and Newt were avoiding him, which didn’t surprise Seb. He supposed it was an awkward situation. Especially now that Ben had been suspiciously found guilty of using illegal steroids before one of his big fights. It was the end of his career. 

Shame really, Seb mused, he’d been good. But Jim wanted his revenge, and Jim always got what he wanted. At least Ben’s handsome face was still intact, and he was still breathing.

Sebastian trudged home from school, not caring about the cold wind against his face. He chose not to get picked up anymore. He liked the solitude of walking alone, of the polluted London air in his lungs. He liked the freedom of taking detours and kicking cans and bottles out of his way. It was his time to relax, his only real break to collect his thoughts. 

Mostly now he spent his walks thinking of Jim. About how strange he’d become since the death of Carl Powers. 

Sebastian had hoped killing the boy would make him happy, but it hadn’t. It had provided a momentary confidence boost, but had done nothing for his mental health or wellbeing. Guilt sat heavy on his shoulders too, because he was supposed to be caring for Jim. But how could he when Jim lived in his own world inside of his head? 

Jim had proudly showed Sebastian the papers which reported the story. Sebastian had been forced to come to the sickening realisation that Carl was only eleven. He’d been really angry when he found out. He’d shouted at Jim and stormed out, slamming doors and breaking things. But what could he do but go back to him? What were four measly years, Jim reasoned. A bad seed will only grow into a worse one, and Carl was a bad seed. A bad seed that laughed too much.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian let himself in, signed the book to say he was home, and trooped up the stairs. He was tired out, already mentally preparing himself for whatever mood Jim was in. It was impossible to tell these days what he’d come home to. It was draining Sebastian slowly, like a poison. 

The blond stepped into the bedroom and glanced at the boy standing with his back to the window, hands clasped behind his back. Jim’s shoulders looked rounded like this. From too much bloody reading and working, Seb reckoned.

Jim looked deadly serious. Disturbed. Manic. Intrigued. Confused. His eyes ran up and down Sebastian’s body uncertainly and then fixed on his face. 

“What’s happened?” Sebastian asked, heart immediately starting to pound, his hairs standing on end all over his body. He closed the bedroom door behind him swiftly. 

Jim seemed like a ghost. His head tilted to the right eerily. 

“He knows.” 

“Who knows?” 

Sebastian waited but Jim decided to take his time with his answer. Sebastian felt as though he was being stared through. Jim was talking out loud, more to himself than to anyone else.

“I’ve found him.” 

Again, Sebastian was at a loss. He swallowed. 

“You what? Found who?” 

“You always told me, Sebastian. You said there’d be others.”

“Jim?” 

“You said other ages, other countries. You said I wasn’t alone. You always told me so, but I never listened. You were right.” 

Sebastian’s lips parted. He raised his eyebrows, not understanding. Jim was racing ahead of him again, not bothering to bridge the gaps so that he could follow his thought process.

“Take a look at this, lovely darling, Sebby. Look. Now. Go on.” 

Sebastian took the piece of photocopied paper Jim thrust towards him. The paper cut his skin, but he ignored the sting of pain. 

A police report. How the fuck had Jim got his hands on it? A police report on the death of Carl Powers. They thought it was a freak accident. A drowning. No further investigations to be carried out other than a routine enquiry at the Atwill-Porter Baths. 

But they’d been contacted, too. Contacted by a person who had extra information. There was a transcript there. A transcript of an interview given by that person. 

Seb read it slowly. Once. Twice. Three times. 

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, finally looking at Jim. His hands would have shaken if he hadn’t made an effort to keep them steady. 

Jim made a frustrated noise. Sebastian didn’t get it. He didn’t understand. The blond looked afraid, tentative, defensive, guilty. Couldn’t he see what this meant? Couldn’t he recognise the immense significance of this moment? Was he that dense? Lovely Sebastian was very pretty, and very loyal, but he simply couldn’t see. Why couldn’t he?

“We have to get out of here,” Sebastian said. He was using his grown-up voice. The one he used when he didn’t want Jim to panic, as though Jim couldn’t hear every single ounce of horror in his tone. “I’ll find a place. Hotel, maybe? I look old enough, and you’ve got cash to hand. Germany? We could go there? They can’t get us once we’ve left the country. Don’t worry. I’ll sort it. I promise.” 

“Sebastian-“ 

“I’m not letting you go to prison. It’s alright. I swear. I’ll say it was just me-” 

Jim marched right up to Sebastian and slapped him hard in the face. The noise of skin on skin echoed through the room. 

Sebastian stared at him, stunned, cheek stinging. 

“You missed the most important part,” Jim informed him calmly. 

Seb continued to stare. What else was there to consider? They were rumbled. There was a bloke out there who knew. It was only a matter of time before the police came for them. 

“They aren’t going to take him seriously. No-one is. We’re not in any danger.” 

Bullshit, Sebastian thought. The police were idiots, but the proof was right there. Right in the transcript for all to see. 

“But he-“ 

“He’s eight,” Jim stressed, sounding overwhelmed and awestruck. There was pride in his voice as well. Triumph. 

Sebastian suddenly understood. The SOS. A distress signal. 

“Jesus Christ…” 

“He’s like me. He’s got to be. I could have worked it out when I was eight. It was easy. The missing shoes. Botulinum toxin. Sooooo simple.” 

Sebastian didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what the fuck a botulinum toxin was. He was out of his depth. 

Clinging to the only part of this situation he felt he could understand, he stood up straighter.

“We need to get rid of the trainers,” he grunted. Get rid of the evidence. It was all he could think of to contribute. 

“Of course,” Jim agreed, sounding distracted. “I’ll have them shipped out to Dublin. Better that they’re not in the country. Just in case.” 

“So we’re okay?” Sebastian confirmed. “It’s not going to lead them to us?” 

“Nobody listens to little boys,” Jim told Sebastian, waggling his finger at him. “We’re practically invisible. Even posh little boys with rich mummies and daddies don’t get special allowances.” 

“He’s rich?” 

“Very rich. He’s a privileged little boy with his own laboratory in his house. He has grounds and money and an inheritance coming his way.” 

Sebastian instinctively hated him. It must have shown on his face because Jim tutted. 

“Your family are rich too,” he reminded Sebastian. “Don’t get snobby, now. He can’t help the way he was brought up, even if he is a lucky little posh boy.” 

Again, as part of an instinct Sebastian couldn’t explain, he felt repelled by the sound of this other little boy. The spectacular prodigy with the colourful mind that had so caught Jim’s attention. Seb wanted Jim’s attention. This new kid didn’t deserve it. Spoilt little fucking brat, using big words while talking to the detectives. Pampered by his family. Stuck-up precocious little bastard. Money coming his way. Probably had a plummy voice. No doubt a snobby fucking cunt…

“He’s got a stupid fucking name,” Sebastian said eventually, when Jim continued to smirk at him. 

“He didn’t name himself,” Jim pointed out fairly. It was one hell of a role reversal, Sebastian realised, Jim being rational for once. But Seb didn’t feel like being fair or rational. He’d been with Jim since he’d come to London. This new little shit couldn’t just saunter in with his brains and his big words and turf him out of his place. 

“So you’re going to hunt him down now, is that it? Gonna pair up with him and just leave me?” Sebastian asked. 

Jim laughed at his petulant tone. It was wonderful to hear Sebastian sulking and jealous. It was a rare occurrence and he wanted to savour it.

“I might do,” Jim drawled. “Wouldn’t that just make you burn with envy?” 

“Fuck off. You said we were for life. I do everything for you. He wouldn’t.” 

“How do you know he wouldn’t?” 

Sebastian paused. 

“Because nobody could fucking love you as much as I could!” Sebastian exclaimed desperately. “I’d do anything for you. I’d die! I’d stick my head out of a moving train for you. I’d do anything you asked me to. Anything, Jim!” 

“Sounds messy,” Jim declared, clearly enjoying this declaration of adoration. 

“He might have a brain, and understand fucking toxins and poisons-“ 

“Botulinum toxin,” Jim corrected Sebastian easily. “It’s dangerous. Very nasty indeed.” 

“I’d stick my neck on the line for you. You can’t trust him. He knows too much.” 

“Oh?” 

“I’m trustworthy. I’d do anything for you.” 

Sebastian was panting with desperation. It was positively delicious. It felt like payback for all that time with Ben. 

“Oh, stop whinging at me, darling,” Jim said quickly, flicking his wrist in Sebastian’s direction. “I’m not going to hunt him down. I’m just going to keep my eye on him for a little while. Don’t you fret, he isn’t going to take your place.” 

“How do I know that?” Seb grunted defensively. 

“Sebastian,” Jim sighed, rolling his eyes. “Do you honestly think anyone could ever, ever compare to you?” 

Sebastian swallowed. He knew other people could. There were people smarter than him, better looking, more capable. He was almost scared of Jim finding that out. More scared than he’d ever realised he had the potential to be.

“They can’t, Seb. They couldn’t possibly. No matter who I meet, they won’t ever come above you. You’re my favourite person. You’ve earned your title. This little boy is going to be my game and I’m going to enjoy watching him, but he isn’t mine. You’re mine.” 

“Jim-“ 

“He’s only a mirror, ‘Bastian.” 

Sebastian tried to understand that. It was tough though, with his blood burning hotly. Jealousy surging through him. Dull hatred pumping through his veins. 

“And,” Jim elaborated. “Although mirrors are nice, because they mean you aren’t alone, nobody wants to cuddle with themself at night, do they?” 

“No, I guess not,” Seb admitted. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

That night, Jim woke Sebastian up with his whispering. Seb cracked open an eye and listened more closely, staring up at the bed above him. Jim was saying the same two words over and over. 

“Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes…”


	62. The Green-Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is still intrigued by Sherlock Holmes and Sebastian feels jealous.

Months went by and still Jim didn’t tire of the mysterious Sherlock Holmes. Valentine’s Day came and went and Seb didn’t receive one single card. That pleased Jim immensely, although it depressed Seb. Not because he wanted the attention of the girls at his school, but because it was a sign of how unpopular he’d become. Even the girls that used to fancy him were afraid to be associated with him now, in case the hatred focussed on him transferred to them. 

Sophie had tried to make conversation with Sebastian, but Seb just couldn’t take it. It was too painful to talk to her when she had the same smile as Ben and the same accent. Newt was even worse. He kept apologising, saying he should have stood up to Chris when they were in Germany, as though it was somehow his fault. And there was his voice too. It hadn’t previously bothered Seb, but now he felt acutely aware that it was posh, upper-class. Just like Holmes would sound, most likely. 

So Sebastian kept his distance from everyone at school and in time they learned to leave him alone. Seb told himself this was fine. Like Jim said, they were all idiots anyway. They couldn’t do a thing for him, so why should Seb waste his time on them?

Blossom covered the trees by now, pink and white, and Seb liked to walk through it on his way back from school. There weren’t too many trees in his part of London, but when he had time he took a detour through a local park, which although vandalised and scummy, was still covered in the blossom Sebastian so admired. He’d never admit it out loud, because he was scared people might think he was girly, but he loved the blossom. He loved nature, too. Loved being outdoors in all weathers. Loved exploring. He’d get that in the army, he consoled himself. Different scenery, different terrain, different languages and all sorts of different cultures. He could keep the fact he liked blokes to himself and be accepted. Like a sort of brotherhood. 

Jim kept his work at school mostly under wraps, but he did reveal the occasional odd detail to Sebastian. Drug smuggling from Bolivia, poaching rings in Africa, insurance scams far closer to home. He was getting ready for a new project too, one his teachers and tutors were excited about. Something about asteroids, he said vaguely. Some research paper that when finished, they wanted to put up for some national prize. 

“You never draft it,” Sebastian had commented conversationally. 

“That’s because it comes directly from my head,” Jim told him easily. “All the facts are in there. I just have to order them up, pluck them out, and put them on the page.” 

“What about sentence structure?”

Jim rolled his eyes because Sebastian was quickly turning into a literary snob.

“I’m not writing poetry,” Jim snapped. “It’s maths and science. You wouldn’t understand.” 

“I could try,” Sebastian offered valiantly. 

“You’d fail,” Jim said quietly, oddly kindly, as though he was sparing Sebastian some future pain. “I wouldn’t attempt it if I were you. Stick to what you’re good at, darling.” 

Jim’s moods were erratic, and he was still uncontrollable. His ability to lie to Danni, and his other therapist, meant that his medication never changed. Sebastian felt like it was his duty to keep Jim safe, and on some nights, that was tough. 

Sometimes Sebastian would find Jim muttering to himself in the corner of the bedroom. Others he’d be sitting on the edge of the top bunk as though he was about to jump off, not that the fall would do much to him. One worrying night, Sebastian had come home from school to find Jim perched on the windowsill, staring out at the garden. 

“Come away, Jim,” he’d muttered quietly. “C’mon. I’ll read to you if you fancy it.” 

That was his latest tactic to distract Jim from self-destructive tendencies. Jim still enjoyed laying in Seb’s lap and being read to, even if sometimes Sebastian felt almost certain Jim wasn’t taking in the words, instead just focussing his attention on Sebastian’s voice. Seb read him all sorts; newspapers, novels, poetry, his critical thinking booklets from school. Many evenings were spent in that way, with Jim gazing up at Sebastian’s face blankly, occasionally reaching up to poke at his jaw or to stroke his chin. Sebastian had grown so used to it by now that he hardly noticed.

One evening in April, Sebastian came home to find a bright and chirpy Jim, wearing a pair of new pyjamas and brandishing papers. He always had papers these days, files he took home from his school to study and then returned the next day. Half the time Sebastian didn’t have the heart to ask what was in them. He reckoned he’d rather not know.

Jim greeted him with a customary raise of his eyebrows and began to chatter away.

“He’s still frustrated because the police won’t listen to him, and rightly so. And you should see his brother, Sebastian.” 

Seb didn’t need to ask who ‘he’ was. 

“Why? What’s wrong with his brother?” 

“He’s the size of a boat,” Jim informed him seriously. “Although apparently he fluctuates.”

“So what?” 

Jim sighed loudly and tilted his head to one side. It was quickly becoming one of his go-to mannerisms, either when he wanted to patronise someone, or when he was thinking especially hard about one particular subject.

“You’re no fun today,” he declared sharply. “Stop sulking. I’ve told you that he won’t come between us.” 

“I just don’t see why you’re so obsessed with some kid,” Sebastian grumbled, shoving his school bag down on the bedroom floor and kicking off his shoes.

“Some kid with a brain far beyond his years and a talent for chemistry, you mean.” 

“I don’t like him,” Sebastian insisted as he went to put his shoes away. He took off his tie and unbuttoned his white shirt, putting it in the laundry box and looking for a t-shirt to wear. 

“I thought you were fond of children?” Jim pointed out, giving Sebastian’s scarred back an appraising look. The marks were fading by now, but they were deep enough that Jim knew they’d be there for life, even if they grew fainter with time. Sebastian’s Father had been especially cruel with those car keys, that was for sure. 

“Not ones like him,” Sebastian said, picking out a blue shirt and tugging it over his head. 

“Do you propose I kill him?” 

Sebastian looked horrified, turning to Jim. He knew it was no longer an idle threat, and that pleased Jim immensely. “No. No way.” 

He chuckled and then waved the papers he was holding in Sebastian’s direction, dismissively. 

“Relax. I wouldn’t kill him yet anyway. I have to see what he can do first.” 

“He’s eight,” Sebastian told him heavily, as he changed into a pair of jeans. “It’ll take years for him to be able to ‘do’ anything.” 

Jim tutted loudly, although he didn’t turn away. He liked to watch Sebastian changing out of his clothes. It was his nightly treat. 

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” he half sang. 

“I’m not jealous,” Sebastian insisted. He could hear that Jim was taking the piss out of him.

“Oh yes, you are. You’re experiencing the green-eyed monster which doth mock,” Jim declared poetically, his tone teasing. 

To Jim’s delight, Sebastian looked touched by that recital.

“Shakespeare,” he breathed out.

“Yes.” 

“How d’you know that?” 

Jim rolled his eyes yet again. One day they’d roll out of his head, he thought, with the amount of times Sebastian needed to witness the gesture. The poor darling did like to state the obvious rather a lot, despite his above average intelligence.

“I’ve listened to you reading that dreadful Othello out loud enough times. Plus, I’ve read your essay drafts.” 

Sebastian paled. 

“They’re not finished,” Seb protested. 

“I’m sure they weren’t,” Jim agreed solemnly. “Because there were errors.”

The blond looked positively devastated, as though the end of the world had been announced. If there was one thing Jim knew was guaranteed to upset Sebastian, it was the notion of failing or disappointing him.

“I’ll fix it,” Sebastian mumbled. 

“Of course you will,” Jim agreed. “Although you have a lovely writing style.” 

Like a puppy, Sebastian’s head lifted. Jim could have patted him on the head right then and there, but he thought it might earn him a few choice swear words, and he wasn’t in the mood to hear them. 

“You think?” 

“Yes, definitely. Now hush. I intend to look at my notes.” 

Sebastian looked dark again, almost mutinous. 

“Your notes on the Holmes kid and his pudgy brother?” 

“Yes. Hush, ‘Bastian. You’re irritating me.” 

Sebastian slumped back on the bed with his arms folded behind his head. His legs were so long that his feet almost stuck out from the end of the bed. He’d be needing a different bed soon, Jim mused Something bigger.

As Jim began to skim his new notes, freshly delivered from sources today, he mouthed words to himself and muttered under his breath. It drove Sebastian insane, not being included. 

“Read it out loud,” he requested after a moment. He sounded so moody and begrudging that Jim laughed. 

“Alright, darling. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” 

He cleared his throat theatrically and shot Sebastian a smirk.

“Sherlock Holmes has suspected autism or Asperger syndrome. His parents are Violet and Siger Holmes. They haven’t been on good terms for some years-“ 

“How the fuck do you know that?” Sebastian asked, furrowing his brow.

“I just do. Now hush,” Jim emphasised firmly. “Don’t interrupt.”

Sebastian pouted. Although, Jim had to concede, it was a very manly pout. 

“Siger’s been having an affair for some time. It’s a family secret, only Sherlock is currently prying. It isn’t going to end well. His brother, Mycroft-“ 

Sebastian scoffed at the name and received a silencing glare from Jim. 

“His brother, Mycroft,” Jim continued. “Is fifteen, the same age as you, ‘Bastian. But luckily he’s lazy and boring. He wants to work for the government because he’s dull.” 

“Prick,” Sebastian added spitefully. Jim hummed his agreement. 

“The family originate from Yorkshire, and have a large home up there, but they live in London currently, and Mycroft and Sherlock have lived most of their lives here in the city.” 

Jim stopped reading. Either he’d lost interest, or had forgotten that Sebastian was listening to him talk too. Wanting to remind Jim of his presence, Sebastian asked a deliberately controversial question. 

“Is the Holmes kid as smart as you?” 

Jim didn’t react with the outrage that Seb had anticipated. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling, pondering the question. 

“It’s difficult to say,” Jim mused. “He has more of a scientific brain. My subject is mathematics. Although I’d say I have more imagination. He’s bound to be ahead with chemistry, having all that lovely equipment to hand, but if we’re talking about raw potential, then probably me. I’m the best I’ve ever met.”

Then Jim paused, thinking again. 

“Although in time, who knows? We’ll just have to see,” he muttered quietly. 

Seb was more disturbed by that than he wanted to let on. Jim was, in his eyes, the smartest, most brilliant person alive. He didn’t want anyone challenging him for that crown, especially not some rich kid.

“Well, he’s a bastard,” Sebastian declared loyally. 

Jim shocked him by starting to laugh affectionately. He was deeply amused by Sebastian’s comment. 

“You’re very protective of my reputation, aren’t you, darling? You wouldn’t like anyone to beat me,” he crooned. 

“Nobody ever could,” Sebastian said firmly. Jim knew he believed it, and rightly so. 

“Would you like to see a photograph of him?” Jim offered. 

Sebastian sat up, intrigued. 

Jim flicked to a different page where a photocopied school picture was printed, and handed it to Seb. 

The boy that stared at the camera, refusing to smile, had curly black hair, cold, calculating blue eyes, and pale skin. Seb hated to admit it, but he could see Jim’s same defiance in him, although he seemed to lack the childish playfulness Jim had held at age eight, and still managed to retain. His limbs were skinny, and he seemed far too angular and serious for a kid. There was something familiar about him, too, but Seb couldn’t put his finger on where he might have seen him before. 

“Your thoughts?” Jim asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sebastian handed the papers back to Jim, feigning disinterest. 

“Thought you were supposed to smile in photos?” he commented gruffly. 

“You grimace,” Jim pointed out fairly. 

“Same difference,” Sebastian shrugged. 

Jim had to hold back another laugh at that. Sebastian was immensely intelligent for a boy that wasn’t quite a genius, but he couldn’t help but descend to petty name calling and insults when his adored best friend was threatened. It was incredibly endearing. 

“Darling, we can’t all have my natural charisma in front of a camera. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You make up for it in real life.” 

Sebastian found his confidence boosted by that, although he refused to smile. 

“You’re incredibly grumpy at the moment,” Jim commented. “I never knew you had it in you.” 

“Not fucking grumpy,” Sebastian insisted, only further proving Jim’s point. “Just tired and stressed-out. I’ve got exams this year. Doing my English Lit early.” 

“And I’m very proud of you,” Jim said gracefully. “But that doesn’t mean I have to tolerate you throwing sulks left, right, and centre.” 

The injustice of that statement, coming from Jim of all people, hit Sebastian like a ton of bricks. His response was cut off though, because Jim was peering at the school photograph again, his lips curling into a smirk.

“They’ve already tried to have him diagnosed, poor mite.” 

So it was back to bloody Holmes again. Fucking brilliant, Sebastian mused.

“They’ve taken him all over the place,” Jim continued serenely. “They just can’t understand why he doesn’t get on with the other little boys and girls. He’s been to lots of posh clinics already. No wonder he looks so bad-tempered.”

“I’ve had anger management,” Sebastian pointed out. 

“It’s not a competition, sweetheart,” Jim told him, tutting. “I thought you of all people might empathise with him.” 

“Why the fuck would I empathise with him?” 

Jim rolled his eyes. 

“Because you’re the heart of this little arrangement. It’s how we work.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Jim scolded him. “I’m the brains, and you’re the brawn. You care about people, I don’t.” 

“Don’t care about people,” Sebastian insisted, although that wasn’t strictly true.

“Oh, but you do, sweetheart,” Jim said quietly, reaching out to stroke Sebastian’s cheek. “All this nastiness doesn’t come naturally to you like it does to me. But you’re learning, and that’s what matters. You have the potential to be brilliant.”

Sebastian leaned into that touch, wanting more attention. He was craving it like mad these days, ever since Sherlock Holmes had stuck his uppity nose in and taken over Jim’s thoughts.

“Have you noticed that it’s starting to happen already?” Jim asked conversationally. Seb almost didn’t hear him because he was focussing on that tender touch. 

“Noticed what?” 

“So you haven’t,” Jim said with a smile Sebastian didn’t recognise. “Poor darling. You’re slow on the uptake. I say we give it a little while longer.” 

“Give what longer?” Sebastian demanded, still not moving away from Jim’s hand. 

Jim poked him on his nose gently, and then went back to reading his notes.


	63. Stalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian make a short trip to central London.

In May, Jim decreed he fancied going on a little day trip into the city, and Sebastian, ever obedient, agreed to go with him. 

“How are we going to swing it with Verity?” Sebastian asked. 

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Jim drawled. “Verity’s working herself into an early grave, and I hope it happens sooner rather than later. She isn’t going to miss us. She still hasn’t realised you lock yourself in with me when I want a bath.” 

That was true. The rules, which had once been so strict and strongly enforced, were slipping away as Verity’s workload mounted. She was struggling to keep the home afloat, and if she hadn’t treated Jim so badly, Sebastian might have felt sorry for her. As it was, he thought it served her right. Karma, he mused. It got everyone in the end.

They caught a bus into central London and took their time milling about. People gave them dirty looks, probably because of Sebastian’s hoodie and scuffed trainers, but neither of them particularly minded that. London was full of snobs, but the last laugh was on them. Jim and Sebastian were almost definitely more intelligent than any of the people that passed them with their noses screwed up as though they could smell something bad.

Seb wanted to go and sit by the stone lions in Trafalgar Square, but Jim insisted they keep away from the tourists. Instead, he led Sebastian towards a free bench in a side street. 

“Let’s play a game,” Jim proposed. 

“What sort of game?” 

“Always so suspicious,” Jim chastised him. “It’s a fun game.” 

Seb grimaced. The last ‘fun game’ Jim had devised involved him suddenly darting out in front of moving traffic, laughing raucously and giggling even more loudly as he spotted Sebastian’s stricken face on the other side of the road. Sebastian had shouted at him for that, really started yelling. Jim couldn’t remember ever hearing Sebastian so angry with him, but it didn’t bother him at all. If he died, he died. Although, he supposed it would be a shame if Sebastian had to see it happen. 

That time, Seb had threatened to tell Verity, in their first major argument, but he’d eventually relented after Jim had curled up with him in his bed that night. 

“I don’t want to go to the psychiatric ward, ‘Bastian,” he’d whispered. “You wouldn’t make me go, would you? Not for a silly little thing like that. It was just a game. It wasn’t an attempt.” 

And of course, Seb had backed down. He knew that the best way to keep Jim safe was to stick with him, even when he got manic, dangerous highs. 

“We’re going to do some people watching,” Jim announced. 

“People watching?” 

“People watching,” Jim clarified. “And don’t repeat after me, Sebastian. It’s a horrible habit and it makes you sound stupid.” 

Sebastian grunted and settled down beside Jim on the bench. He slumped back as far as he could and placed the bag of chips they’d bought cheaply from a grubby fish and chip shop on his lap. 

“And how’s that supposed to be fun?” he asked. 

“You’re a writer,” Jim said, pretending to be scandalised. “You’re supposed to draw inspiration from wherever you can.” 

“Yeah? And you’re a mathematician,” Seb shot back easily. “So why the hell would you be interested in watching the ‘scum’ as you call them, going about their business?” 

Jim grinned broadly. 

“Very good logic, but I just want to play a game. Don’t spoil my fun, ‘Bastian. I’m boooooored.” 

“Alright, fine,” Sebastian grumbled. He always agreed in the end. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Which one of those men is more handsome?” Jim asked curiously. 

Seb looked distrustful, but Jim seemed to be sincere. He shifted slightly as he studied the two men Jim had inclined his head at, trying to make it look as though he wasn’t staring. One man was short and wore a blue jacket. He was using a cash machine on the side of the street. The other was clad in a long grey coat and seemed to loom over the other. His hair was a shade lighter. 

“One with the blue jacket,” Seb answered. 

“Because?” 

“Better eyes.” 

Jim hummed in agreement. 

“What about that one there?” Jim questioned, gesturing vaguely at a twenty-something year old with a hoodie on. He had a scruffy air and a stubbly, scratchy chin. His eyes were blue and his legs were too long for his body. Jim thought he was rather nice. 

‘Nah,” Seb said easily. 

“No?” 

“Not my taste.” 

Jim raised his eyebrows but accepted that. 

They sat for a while, Jim picking at the chips on Sebastian’s lap idly. He wasn’t hungry really, but he’d promised Sebastian he’d eat, and Seb got cross and moody if he starved himself for more than a day at a time. Several pigeons were attracted by the smell and the sight of the greasy chips and flocked around the bench, trying to get a closer look. They approached Jim hopefully, wanting morsels of their own. Jim took great pleasure in occasionally throwing them chips and watching them crowd around each scrap, fighting for it. He got Sebastian to throw copper coins from his pocket at them when they got too close. Seb hit one in the head without even looking and it stumbled before flying away. Jim thought it would probably have brain damage. Well, that was the price to pay for disobedience. The others knew better. 

“They’re diseased, probably,” Sebastian commented, glancing at the birds that stared at Jim. 

“Maybe I like diseased?” Jim said argumentatively. And he did quite like the pigeons. He liked how stupid they were and how they did what he wanted when he threw them food. 

Seb shrugged. He’d given up on trying to reason with Jim. 

“Your call, but don’t let them get too close.” 

Jim continued to toy with them for a while, until he got bored of that and kicked one. After that they left the teenagers alone. Sebastian didn’t say a word about it, but he noticed that they obeyed Jim’s whims without question. Maybe they were smarter than anyone gave them credit for. 

Ten minutes later, Jim noticed that Sebastian had changed his posture slightly as a man walked closer to them. He was a businessman, probably. Most likely a banker from the finance district. He wore a sharp suit and held a briefcase. Jim admired his choice of tie, which was red with black stripes on it. 

“Him?” Jim asked curiously, not failing to see that Sebastian had straightened his back and raised his chin. 

Seb shifted, looking embarrassed. 

“He’s alright,” he mumbled. 

Jim beamed, eyes playful. 

“You really like him, don’t you?” Jim said quietly. “Oh, darling. Bless your heart.” 

“Shut it,” Seb grunted. 

“What do you like so much about him?” 

Seb shifted again. He was blushing to the tips of his ears. 

“Dunno,” he said eventually, as the man passed them without a second glance. His expression was uppity, his stride confident. He was clearly a powerful man, rich too. The pigeons on the street parted for him as he walked. “Just do.” 

“Hm,” Jim said thoughtfully, and he left it at that. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Half an hour later, when the cold chips had been eaten by Seb, who hardly ever wasted food and seemed to have the biggest appetite in the world, despite never putting on fat, only muscle, Jim poked Sebastian in the ribs. 

“I did make us come here for a reason,” he admitted. 

“Thought so,” Seb said gruffly. 

“Guessed why we’re sitting in the middle of the lovely city of London?” he asked, his tone teasing. 

“Of course,” Sebastian agreed. He was sharp like that, more sharp than his demeanour and posture ever outwardly showed. “It’s to do with the Holmes kid.” 

Jim smiled. “Good boy. You don’t mind, do you?” 

“What, stalking a kid? Not my ideal way of spending a Saturday, truth be told.” 

Jim huffed, although he poked Sebastian affectionately again. 

“Your ideal way of spending a Saturday would be punching someone, reading Shakespeare, eating chicken or beef or something like that, reading me a story, playing cards, and going for a nice run or a walk.” 

There was no denying that Jim knew him well. 

“But today we’re doing what I want, and that means doing a little bit of investigation.” 

“Stalking,” Sebastian corrected him mildly. 

“We’re not going to follow him. Well, not far. I only want to see him in the flesh. And I want you to see him too.” 

Sebastian looked grumpy as he slouched back on the bench. 

“So what’s he doing here, then?” Seb asked begrudgingly. 

Jim smiled and leaned against Sebastian, feeling the warmth of his body flood to his own. 

“His brother is taking him to see an expensive child psychologist. Then he’s going to a morgue as a treat.” 

“Sounds like a barrel of laughs, this kid,” Sebastian said lowly.

“Nothing wrong with the morgue. It’s all about science, darling. A fascination with death is quite natural. Aren’t you interested in what happens when you die?” 

Sebastian sniffed. 

“I don’t give two shits what happens to me when I kick the bucket,” he lied. 

“Nor does he. He wants to see the effects of death on the human body,” Jim said swiftly, sounding admiring.

“And the pudgy brother’s alright with taking him to look at dead people?” 

Jim chuckled. Sebastian had a wonderful habit of simplifying things to make them sound absurd. 

“You take me to all sorts of places,” Jim pointed out mildly. “So hush. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” 

“Jesus just shed a tear,” Sebastian said sarcastically. 

“Did he now?” 

“Yeah. Hearing you talking Christianity. He’s converting to Satanism.” 

Jim couldn’t help but laugh. He loved Sebastian’s dry and sarcastic wit. It was refreshing. 

Eventually, through the crowds, Jim spotted the pair he was looking for. He was going to poke Sebastian yet again to alert him, but Sebastian’s senses were even better than his own. He’d seen them a mile off. 

The two males that trotted down the street had clearly had a recent disagreement. A little boy was trying to break away from his teenage brother, who had a firm grasp on his coat so he wouldn’t get lost in the busy London streets. 

The chubby boy with reddish brown hair and a curved sort of nose was frowning at the general public in a way that reminded Seb strongly of Jim. He was fairly large, but not as massive as Seb had anticipated. He only seemed bigger than he was because the Holmes kid was a skinny little scrap.

Sherlock Holmes walked at a confident and uncaring trot. Sebastian remembered Jim at that age. He’d practically scampered about. He’d seemed younger than this. Holmes walked like an adult already, even sticking his nose high in the air and frowning at people just like his elder brother. 

“Don’t you just want to wrap him up and read him a bedtime story,” Jim teased, watching Sebastian’s grim expression. 

“The brother’s seen us,” Sebastian murmured out of the corner of his mouth, pretending to divert his attention to another person walking by. 

“So look elsewhere and he’ll stop staring,” Jim responded, expertly following his own advice. 

The harassed-looking chubby boy did look away, and he continued to walk. He seemed to be telling off his little brother, although they couldn’t hear his words from this distance. 

“See, that’s what most fifteen year olds look like,” Jim mused, getting up from the bench. Sebastian followed suit and they slipped expertly into the crowd, disappearing in the current of rushing bodies, keeping the Holmes brothers in sight. 

“Bullshit. He’s fatter than most of us. Plus he looks like a prick,” Sebastian argued. 

“Facially,” Jim insisted. “He looks younger than you.” 

“Doesn’t.” 

“Yes, he does,” Jim said. “He looks more stressed out, more intelligent, more unusual. But you seem older. You look like an adult. Your face and body are both quite mature.” 

“Bull.” 

“But you’re far more handsome, and he’s going to age horribly,” Jim consoled Seb, placing his palm momentarily on the small of Sebastian’s back. “You can tell. Don’t fret.”

Sebastian wasn’t bloody fretting in the first place, but now wasn’t the time to argue. He followed Jim’s lead and they trailed the pair for the next five minutes. 

“They’re going to a private clinic,” Jim revealed quietly. “Very pricey.” 

“Typical, that,” Sebastian said. “Us stuck on the NHS same as everyone else. Why should they get special treatment?” 

“Because they have money,” Jim revealed wisely. “It’s the way the system works, Sebastian. Money brings opportunity. You know that as well as I do, so don’t pretend to be stupid. It really doesn’t suit you.” 

Sebastian kept on walking in silence. They turned a corner sharply, Sebastian only managing to avoid banging into Jim because his reactions were so quick. 

“It won’t help, though,” Jim revealed conversationally. “He doesn’t like to cooperate with idiots. Just the same as me.” 

Sebastian hated the comparisons between Jim and the Holmes kid. Yes, they shared a high intellect and disdain for the general population of London, but aside from that they were on opposite ends of the scale. Jim was brilliant, he was likable, had a wicked sense of humour, he knew exactly what to say and when. This Sherlock Holmes character seemed to Sebastian to be a privileged brat that would fizzle out sooner rather than later. There was nothing lovable about him. Jim might have teased about wrapping him up and reading him a story, but Sebastian would rather have held him at arms length. There was something untrustworthy about him. Jim inspired Sebastian’s absolute and complete adoration. Holmes the younger only inspired a dull sense of foreboding. 

“Stop,” Jim commanded him sternly, and for a moment Seb froze on the spot, earning himself tuts from passersby, before he realised that Jim was talking about his thought process instead of his physical advance. 

“Stop what? I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’re getting jealous and nasty again. It isn’t his fault he’s clever.” 

“Are they both smart?” 

“Oh, very smart indeed,” Jim agreed, sounding deeply admiring. “It must be in their genetics. And the brother’s gay. Or at least, he’s keen on men. I’m not sure if it’s exclusive.” 

“So?” Sebastian asked moodily. 

“Just pointing it out.” 

“I don’t automatically like every single gay bloke that pops up,” Sebastian said, tone low and irritable. “He’s still a prick, gay or not.” 

“You don’t symapthise with a young man’s struggle to be attracted to his same sex in today’s small-minded society?” Jim teased. 

Sebastian grunted, and even Jim knew it was time to stop baiting him. 

“Oh well, I doubt he’ll find many suitors looking like that,” Jim added cruelly. “Unlike you, darling. You’re quite the catch.” 

“They’ve gone,” Sebastian told Jim, teeth gritted. He always tried to ignore it when Jim started to play with him. 

“They have,” Jim agreed carelessly. He seemed content by what they’d achieved, but it all seemed pointless to Seb. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They waited outside of the clinic for a whole hour. Sebastian was surprised Jim was able to remain still and patient for so long, but he supposed when he put his mind to something, he could manage it. Seb leaned back against a brick wall and watched the people that walked by. He wished he’d brought a cigarette. Occasionally, Jim would reveal something about someone that passed.

“Having an affair,” Jim would drawl lazily. “Secret lesbian. That one gets beaten up by his wife.” 

Sebastian didn’t know how Jim did it. Half the time he thought he was probably making it up. 

Eventually, the Holmes brothers emerged again. Sherlock Holmes looked furious and stomped ahead of his sibling. Mycroft Holmes seemed troubled and kept a firm eye on his little brother as he hurried after him. 

Jim smirked and grabbed Sebastian’s hand, leading him back into the crowd. Together they retraced their previous steps, finally ending up near their bench again. 

It was at that point that Sherlock Holmes bent down, quick as anything, and snatched something up from the ground, shoving it inconspicuously into his pocket. 

Beside Sebastian, Jim started to giggle. Seb hadn’t caught exactly what was going on. 

“And you can put that down, Sherlock Holmes,” came one of the most snobby, patronising voices Sebastian had ever had the misfortune to hear. “You know how Mummy hates you bringing deceased animals into the house.” 

The little boy narrowed his eyes and allowed a dead pigeon to fall on the pavement. 

It was the voice that did it. As Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes continued their progress, presumably to the morgue Jim had told Sebastian about, Seb thought furiously. He’d heard it before. 

“What is it?” Jim asked, as he sat back down on the bench. He still hadn’t surrendered Sebastian’s hand. 

“I’ve seen them before,” Seb said. “I’m sure I have.” 

“Oh?” 

Sebastian grimaced, trying to sieve through his memories. Then he realised. 

“At the Science Museum. They were there. Ages back.” 

Jim frowned, intrigued. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” Sebastian said. “He kept on calling Sherlock his ‘petite frère.’” 

Jim sighed with frustration at his previous missed opportunity and snuggled close to Sebastian. Seb draped an instinctive arm around his shoulder as they continued to watch the people of London pass by. 

“Well, that’s brothers for you,” Jim said eventually. 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“Putting up with each other. Without the shared genetics, they’d probably have throttled each other in their sleep by now. Funny really. Don’t you think so, ‘Bastian?” 

Seb snorted. 

“You’ve got a fucking weird sense of humour,” he commented. 

“And like I said previously,” Jim said, resting his head against Sebastian’s shoulder. “You’re painfully slow on the uptake.”


	64. Dawn's Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn and Raj are engaged and Jim knows she's going to leave soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of child abuse.

It took Jim mere moments to realise that when Dawn arrived for her evening shift at the home in July, she was newly engaged. It wasn’t the ring that he spotted first of all, though, it was her smile. Brighter than he’d ever seen it. 

Jim decided not to go upstairs to change. He wanted to speak to Dawn before Sebastian got home from school. So he strolled into the kitchen and settled down at the table, clearing his throat so he wouldn’t startle her. 

He did startle her, however, and she turned from the kitchen counter with a hand clutched to her breast. 

“Congratulations,” Jim found himself drawling. 

Dawn had the good grace to blush pink. She really could have been mistaken for a relative of Sebastian’s, now more than ever. Along with the obvious similarities, the blonde hair and the blue eyes, she blushed the same colour, and held the same gentleness in her, even if hers sat on the surface, and Sebastian’s was hidden beneath layers and layers of gruffness and silence. 

“Can I see the ring?” Jim asked, gesturing at Dawn’s left hand. 

Smiling, Dawn nodded. She presented Jim with her plump hand and Jim took it with interest, examining the ring on her fourth finger. It wasn’t overly expensive, and Jim didn’t think it was the type he’d have chosen. Poor Dawn liked a lot of rather tacky things, but he supposed it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. It didn’t have a massive stone on it, for one thing. Jim was a great believer in flamboyance when necessary, but not with rings. If he ever had an engagement ring, which he greatly doubted, he’d want something horrendously expensive but also elegant and simple.

Out of respect for Dawn, he didn’t crinkle up his nose at it.

“How did Raj propose?” Jim asked. 

Dawn sat down opposite him at the kitchen table. She was obviously bursting to tell someone. 

“We went out to see a show,” she revealed excitedly, beaming from ear to ear. “Then afterwards, he got down on one knee, and asked me to marry him. I’m glad he didn’t do it in the restaurant, though.” 

Jim agreed, nodding his head. Raj was an intelligent man and he knew better than to display his affection so openly in public. Jim respected him, although that was mostly because Raj had been his free ticket to every science fair and conference in London for the past year. He was good for an intelligent conversation too, though, and Jim thought he’d probably treat Dawn well. 

“You’re leaving,” Jim said quietly. It wasn’t a question or an accusation, just a statement. It was obvious this was where Dawn’s story would end. Jim had known she’d be a mother one day, and that she’d get away from Verity and her dead-end job soon. He was almost happy for her. Almost. 

Dawn nodded her head. “Not for a while, though. I’ll be working all this summer, and then I’ll try for something else.” 

Jim finally let go of Dawn’s soft hand and she placed it down on the table.

“Sebastian’s going to be devastated,” Jim commented matter-of-factly. 

He hadn’t said it to make Dawn feel guilty, but she obviously did, because her cheeks went pink again and she fiddled with one of her large hoop earrings. 

Dawn was a bit of a chav, really, with her London accent and her liking for horrid trainers and brightly coloured hairbands. Jim thought of her as similar to Nancy from Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens, because all the kids at the home adored her and despite having quite the attitude when dealing with Verity, she was soft and motherly. Sebastian had told him that story before, and Jim had joked that they were the three characters; Oliver, Dodger and Nancy. 

Sebastian hadn’t particularly enjoyed being likened to Oliver, who was naïve and innocent, but Jim thought the comparison was apt. Poor little moral Oliver being led astray by Dodger, who was the perfect criminal and far ahead of his years. Neither of the boys had a real home, although Oliver came from money. 

“I’m going to tell you something, but only because I trust you and I know you aren’t an idiot like most people,” Jim said suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

That was high praise coming from Jim. Dawn nodded, her earrings bobbing. 

“Sebastian likes boys. That’s why his friend beat him up.” 

Dawn looked surprised. Her blue eyes widened, although her shock didn’t seem to be the disapproving kind. 

“Oh…” 

“You need to tell him that it’s okay, because he’ll listen to you and he needs to hear it.” 

“That’s why-“ 

“Germany. Yes. That’s why Chris ended up with a fractured skull.” 

Dawn looked sad. Jim peered at her curiously from across the table, waiting for her reaction. When none came, he sighed and continued. 

“He thinks of you as his sister, you know,” Jim told her. “He’s going to take it very hard that you’re leaving.” 

“I know. I know.” 

“I’ll look after him, don’t worry,” Jim assured her with a wave of his hand. “But you mustn’t abandon him like his parents. You have to stay in contact.” 

“I will. I’ll write. Ring if I can.” 

Jim nodded his head approvingly. 

“So you’ll tell him that it’s fine to be gay?” 

“Of course I will. Why didn’t he say anything? I could have helped. He knows he can talk to me.” 

Jim rolled his eyes. He wasn’t supposed to do that to adults, or so Verity said, but Dawn never minded. She was smart like that. 

“Because he’s scared people will reject him, like they have done his whole life.” 

Dawn’s eyes were quickly filling with tears. In that way she was very different from Sebastian. Seb fought tears with every fibre of his being. Dawn was soft and emotional and never hid her feelings, unless that feeling was anger. 

“I’m not going to, though,” Jim said seriously. “I won’t ever reject him. Ever.” 

“You’re a good friend, Jim.” 

“We need each other,” Jim said simply. “Verity doesn’t understand. But you do.” 

Dawn blinked and wiped at her eyes. 

Jim tilted his head to one side. 

“You do, don’t you?” 

“I think so,” Dawn said. 

There was another long silence, and then Dawn stood up from the table. She went over to the cupboard and took out the biscuit tin, opening it easily and offering it to Jim. He eagerly selected a chocolate digestive. 

That was something good about Dawn. Whenever she thought someone was in need of a bit of emotional support, she always offered chocolate. It was a wise move. 

“What was he like as a little boy?” Jim asked, nibbling on a biscuit, asking something he had often thought about privately.

“He was shy,” Dawn said with a remembering smile as she took a biscuit too. “He barely spoke to anyone, but he was ever so polite. He used to help me tidy up each evening. Followed me around all over the place. He was a lovely little boy.” 

“I’ll never forgive his Father,” Jim said quietly. “Never.” 

“Neither will I,” Dawn agreed as a fat tear rolled down her cheek, smudging her make up. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian had been such a broken little boy when he’d arrived, clutching his bags, head bowed. He never liked to look anyone in the eye. He’d been desperate to please, terrified of failure. Unlike the others, he seemed almost obsessed with earning his keep, as though he was scared he’d be kicked out or hurt or sent away if he was bad. It had taken almost a whole month before Seb had spoken to anyone, and even then it had only been a whispered ‘thank you,’ to Dawn. 

He’d been conscious of his scars and didn’t like people to look at him. He felt worthless, useless, like he deserved it. Like getting sent away from his parents was his fault, a punishment. While the other children ran about and caused trouble, Sebastian sat very still and watched from a distance. He seemed to have put himself into self-imposed disgrace.

One day, months and months into his stay at the home, he’d tugged on Dawn’s skirt and looked up at her with big blue eyes and a shaking lower lip which he was fighting to keep under control. He’d never liked crying, and had once broken the skin on his thumb from pinching it so hard, his tactic to distract the tears and trick them into not falling. 

“If I’m a good boy, will they let me go back?” he’d asked, his voice a little whisper. Back then he’d been well-spoken, before he’d developed his real London accent, absorbed from all the other children that came and went from the home. 

“You’re here so you’ll be safe, Seb,” Dawn had told him softly, crouching to his level. Because despite having always been tall for his age, he had been little once. And afraid. 

“W-what if Father gets in trouble?” he whispered, voice shaking. “When it was my fault really.” 

Dawn had sighed and felt her heart break. 

“Do I need to hand myself over to the police?” five year old Seb had asked, puffing out his chest bravely. 

“Of course you don’t, Seb,” Dawn had told him firmly, reaching out to pat his blond head. Sebastian blinked at her, confused by the affection. He couldn’t understand why he was being treated like a good boy when he’d been so naughty that his Father was rotting in a prison and now his mother was lonely. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

Sebastian sniffed and shifted from foot to foot. He didn’t believe Dawn, even if she was nice. She was only trying to stop him from feeling bad, when really he deserved to get nightmares and have his ugly scars. It was a punishment, probably from God, because he was bad and a sinner and he’d failed his Father. 

It had taken Dawn a long time to get that sad little soldier to understand that his Father had done wrong, not him. Even then, Sebastian thought of his Father with such awe, dread, respect and reverence that he couldn’t comprehend the horror of what the man had done to him. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“I wish I’d come here sooner,” Jim said suddenly, remembering his own childhood. Hungry and lonely with nobody to listen to him being clever. He got teased for being a ‘sissy’ because he didn’t like to fight and he knew all sorts of big words. He got pushed around a lot because his clothes were second-hand and too small and the rumours said that his daddy had to stay in the hospital sometimes because he was mad. The other children didn’t understand The Depression the way Jim did. 

Sebastian would have made it all better, Jim mused. 

“What you and Sebastian have is very special,” Dawn said quietly. “You’ve got a very close bond. It’s a rare thing.” 

“He adores me,” Jim told Dawn seriously, the words slipping out of his mouth. An admission he, himself, could barely believe, even if he knew it was true. 

“Yes,” Dawn agreed with a nod of her head. “I think he does.” 

Even though he’s seen me wetting the bed, screaming, and having my turns, Jim thought to himself. Even though I slap him when he’s disobedient and he could beat me up if he wanted. 

“You’re both very special boys,” Dawn said into the silence. 

“You like us,” Jim said in wonderment. That was something else that shocked him. “Both of us. Not just Sebastian. Why?” 

“You’re good boys.” 

“We’re not.” 

“You are,” Dawn insisted. ‘I know you are.” 

That made Jim feel something akin to guilty. It felt almost as though she knew and this was some sort of plea. But how could she know? Dawn was perceptive, that was for certain, but she wasn’t that clever. 

“And you don’t mind that Sebastian’s gay?” 

“I think,” Dawn said slowly. “That people are who they are, and it’s not anyone else’s business. As long as he’s happy, then so am I.” 

Jim nodded his head, feeling his respect for the young woman grow. He wondered why he’d ever disliked her so passionately. 

“Verity’s always underestimated you,” he told her. "You’re her most underused resource.” 

Dawn laughed at that. 

“I barely even scraped my qualifications. I was awful at school, Jim. I’ve never been talented like you and Seb are,” she told him with a smile.

“Qualifications don’t mean anything,” Jim told her firmly. “You see more than Verity does, or Frank.” 

Dawn was touched. Jim knew she had low self-esteem. It was written all over her.

“Sebastian has both,” Jim declared. 

“Both what?” 

“Intellectual intelligence and emotional intelligence. He’s got elements of us both. He’s almost the dead centre. Have you noticed?”

Dawn smiled softly. Jim knew she saw more than she let on. And Jim liked her. As far as he was able to like people that weren’t Sebastian, anyway. 

“He’s got a big future ahead of him,” Dawn agreed. Unlike every other adult that came into contact with Sebastian, she seemed to believe he had more potential than ending up in prison like his Father had. 

“He has,” Jim agreed solemnly. 

They sat in companionable silence, and Dawn began wiping at the table with a cloth, just for something to do. She really was above this, Jim thought, cleaning up mess and doing the dirty work. If he had his way, Verity would be underpaid and overworked, and Dawn would sit in the main office with a high salary and all the praise. 

“Don’t tell him yet,” Jim suggested. “I think I should do it.” 

Dawn frowned. It felt, to her, like a lie, and Dawn didn’t like lying. 

“He’ll take it better from me,” Jim insisted. “Tell him that you’re engaged, but not that you’re leaving. Leave that part to me.”

“I don’t know, Jim,” Dawn faltered. 

“I do,” Jim told her with confidence. “He’s already very stressed at the moment. He has exams, he has me, he’s getting bullied at school. If you love him, which I know you do, then you’ll let me break it to him gently. I know how he works.” 

Dawn pushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face and nodded.


	65. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim tells Sebastian that Dawn is going to leave.

“We need to have a conversation,” Jim announced as Sebastian slouched into the bedroom, fresh from his shower, towel wrapped around his hips. 

“Talk away,” Sebastian mumbled, already rooting around for boxer shorts and jogging bottoms. He was in a bad mood, Jim could tell. He was tired from school, and most likely someone had shouted something at him in the corridor again. People kept doing that to him. They were cowards though, Jim knew. They were only doing it because they knew Seb couldn’t hit them back. If he did, Seb would get kicked out of school. 

“When I say conversation, I mean a two-way dialogue, not me talking at you,” Jim clarified sweetly. “So sit down and listen to me, darling.”

Sebastian grunted something incoherent and chose a pair of blue boxer shorts. With a sigh, Jim turned his back. That was the rule now. He wasn’t allowed to peek when Sebastian got changed. 

“Right, I’m done,” Sebastian grunted at him. When Jim turned back around Seb was dressed in loose grey trousers and looking tired. His hair was still gorgeously wet from his shower, darker than usual and dripping beads of water down his neck. 

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Jim said strictly, pointing at the bed. Obediently, Sebastian shuffled over and slumped down, making the bed creak with his weight. “I have some bad news for you.” 

Sebastian grimaced. He looked like a boy who’d had enough bad news for one lifetime already. But Jim had to do this, even if it made him feel horribly cruel. It was better he found out from him than from the others at dinner. 

“Dawn is engaged,” he said. 

Sebastian sniffed, considered that information, then looked down at his knees. He’d already caught on. 

“Don’t look like that,” Jim criticised softly. “You knew it had to happen eventually. Did you expect her to stay here forever? Cleaning up sick and crumbs and cooking dinners for us all?” 

Seb still didn’t speak. He barely even moved. 

But Jim had ever needed words to read Sebastian. From his posture alone he could see that he was sulking. 

“Now, now,” Jim said. “You’re being unreasonable. You want her to be happy, don’t you?” 

The blond nodded his head. 

Jim sighed and shifted to sit down right beside Seb. He brought up a hand to play with the wet, curling strands of Sebastian’s darkened blond hair at the nape of his neck. He reached over with his right hand to place his palm comfortingly on Sebastian’s thigh. 

“She isn’t going to leave for a little while yet,” Jim continued calmly. “But you have to be prepared for when she does. No tears, understood? You’ll have to accept it and move on.” 

Sebastian flinched at that. 

“Wasn’t going to fucking cry about it,” he grunted lowly. 

“I know, I know,” Jim whispered soothingly, running his pale digits down the back of Sebastian’s neck and tracing them over his shoulder blades. “But she’s like your sister, and you’re going to feel a bit bereft for a little while.” 

“Fuck off,” Sebastian snapped. It was so uncharacteristic that Jim paused for a moment. However, he decided to let it go. Sebastian was hurting, after all. 

Jim sighed again, long and theatrical and then shifted slightly away from Sebastian. He did nothing for a moment, and waited for Sebastian’s guilt to set in. 

He wasn’t disappointed. Less than a minute later, Sebastian raised his head a fraction and shot Jim a quick look with nervous blue eyes. He was already apologetic and wary. Bless his heart. 

“Come here,” Jim decreed, patting his own lap. 

Sebastian looked slightly confused, like he was anticipating a sudden slap as a punishment for his rudeness, but then did as he was told. He moved onto his side and lay down with his head in Jim’s lap, staring out blankly at the bedroom in front of him. 

“Your hair is wet,” Jim informed Seb with a tut as the reassuring weight ended up in Jim’s lap. Seb made a move to shift away from him, but Jim patted him on the shoulder to tell him, wordlessly, to stay. 

Jim enjoyed holding Sebastian like this. It was a rare occurrence, that Sebastian let his guard down enough to show such vulnerability and dependence. It was usually done in repentance, seeking forgiveness. Such submission in a large, strong, fierce boy like Sebastian was like music to Jim’s soul. He felt like the lion tamer at the zoo he had once dreamed of being. As a child he had fantasised about being in complete control of someone like Sebastian. To be able to give them commands and not be questioned. And now it was finally coming true. 

“I know how you feel,” Jim told him quietly. “I know you better than anyone. But you have to be brave about it all. Because sometimes, ‘Bastian, people leave. You can’t let that hurt you. You have to be better than that.” 

They sat in silence for a long while, Jim tenderly stroking Sebastian’s hair as it dried. He ran his fingertips over the scars on Sebastian’s back, as well, and Seb didn’t even flinch. 

Eventually, there was a tentative knock on the bedroom door, and Dawn called in softly. 

“Boys? Can I come in, please?”

Sebastian looked uncertain, but Jim placed the flat of his palm against Sebastian’s back again, calming him. 

“Yes, you can,” Jim called back.

Dawn was greeted by the strange sight of Sebastian curled up in Jim’s lap. His head rested contently on Jim’s legs and his own large limbs were folded neatly behind him. 

Jim continued to serenely stroke Sebastian’s hair, not at all embarrassed. Sebastian looked too drained and betrayed to move. Jim had already told him, then. 

“I’ve spoken to Raj,” Dawn said quietly, wringing her hands. “And I think it would be a good idea if we had a proper send-off.” 

“We don’t like parties,” Jim said firmly. 

“No, I know that,” Dawn agreed. “We were thinking just the four of us? Since you and Raj get on so well, Jim. This summer we wanted to rent a cottage for a week in Kent. If you wanted to, you could come with us?” 

Jim raised his eyebrows. He liked the sound of that offer immensely. Sebastian needed a break, and the fresh air would no doubt do him good.

“What do you think, ‘Bastian?” Jim asked him softly. 

“Yeah,” he grunted. It was as much as Jim knew they’d be able to get out of him for now. 

“He’s not feeling well,” Jim explained to Dawn, as though Sebastian was a child Jim was soothing. She didn’t know how to respond to this side of Jim. He seemed suddenly so adult that she paused. 

“Well, dinner will be ready in quarter of an hour,” she eventually said before leaving the room. 

Dawn had witnessed Sebastian’s grumpy moods before. A lot of the time he liked to cut himself off from people and sit in the silence, kicking at things and cracking his knuckles to soothe the anger in his veins. Dawn had also often witnessed Sebastian comforting Jim, holding him, reassuring him, trying to keep him from harm. But she’d never seen the tables turned so drastically before. She’d never seen Jim take on the role of protector. 

She wondered if this was what happened often behind closed doors or if this was a new development. Either way, it spoke volumes about Jim. He obviously had the capability to care deeply for someone. Something that his therapists hadn’t ever spotted. 

But she also knew that his friendship with Sebastian wasn’t quite right. It was intense and tumultuous. There was something about it, a feeling she experienced, that told her there was a problem. Verity had declared the boys codependent, which Dawn could understand, but what could realistically be done? Jim was a very possessive boy who needed to take ownership of things to feel powerful. Sebastian was constantly seeking praise in order to feel validated. It was a toxic mix. But Dawn liked them both immensely. Jim was amusing, if unusual, and Sebastian was her favourite. He had been since the day he’d arrived. 

It was all in fate’s hands now, she reasoned. She could only hope that the boys helped each other to stay afloat instead of dragging each other beneath the waters.


	66. Kent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian spend a week in Kent to say goodbye to Dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobic language.

“The Garden of England,” Jim announced with a smirk. “Sounds like your sort of place, Seb. You can get your fix of running and climbing and exploring down there.” 

“With Raj as well?” Sebastian asked doubtfully. 

“Yes, with Raj as well. Dawn’s marrying him, Sebastian, so you need to make your peace with the man. You should be thankful that he’s not an idiot.” 

So in August, when the weather was hot and pleasant, Dawn, Raj, Jim, and Sebastian set off on their first and last holiday together. 

The car journey wasn’t as bad as Jim had anticipated. He’d thought he’d end up bored and irritable, but Dawn played the radio, and Raj talked about science with him while Sebastian massaged his feet. He liked having his feet rubbed. When he felt tired and wanted a little sleep, he leaned heavily against Sebastian and drifted off. 

Sebastian was polite to Raj, although he still didn’t trust him. Like any brother, he felt protective of Dawn. Jim laughed at him for it, calling him silly, but Seb couldn’t help it. As nice as Raj seemed, he couldn’t help but feel wary of him. Someone had to look out for Dawn, after all, seeing as her own brother had died so young.

The cottage they’d rented was like a picture postcard, and even Jim seemed pleased with it. It was surrounded by fields stretching in every direction, and there was a village shop close-by, where they’d buy their food for the week.

“Thought you liked the city,” Sebastian mumbled as Jim dragged him from the car and rushed into the cottage, checking the rooms and the bedroom they’d be sharing. 

“I do, but I have plans that require some space,” Jim said cryptically. “Carry my case, ‘Bastian. My arms ache already.”

The bedroom was old-fashioned but spacious, with a large, bright window covered with floral blue curtains. It reminded Sebastian of books he’d read about country cottages, homely and comforting. He liked the fresh air that flowed in through the window and the smell of the outdoors. Jim claimed he could smell manure somewhere in the distance, but all Sebastian could pick up on was the scent of summer, warm and refreshing. 

Jim liked the spiders that lurked behind the old wooden wardrobe far less than the accommodation, but Seb made short work of them. He captured them in cups, apparently not scared of them in the slightest, even though Jim had squealed and retreated to the bed in horror. Seb chucked them out of the bedroom window carelessly, and Jim peered at him with mixed horror and respect. 

“What shall we do tomorrow?” Jim asked on that first night after a dinner of eggs and soldiers which he’d picked at before pushing away. 

“Explore,” Seb said with a sigh. He was so relaxed, bless him, Jim thought. He was in his element here. He liked his freedom. “I was thinking we could check out the woods.” 

“Woods and the flowers and the pretty little bunnies and the chickens and the butterflies,” Jim teased in a sing-song voice. 

Sebastian tried a smile in return. It didn’t come naturally to him at the moment. Most of the time all he wanted to do was sleep or read or hit things. 

Jim, content to be free of Verity and her rules and the other children whom he hated, lay back on his single bed and sang to himself. Sebastian raised an eyebrow, but didn’t try to stop him. True, he couldn’t sing at all, and to be honest, had it been anyone else, Seb would have threatened to punch them by now, but it was better than the silence.

Seb had a hunch that Jim was only doing it so he wouldn’t fall into dark thoughts about being teased and ridiculed at school and losing Dawn forever. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

On the second day, Jim woke Sebastian up with a poke to the cheek with his pale fingertip. He’d resisted the urge to jump on Sebastian’s sleeping form, just for decency’s sake. He knew that Sebastian liked his space in the mornings. 

They washed, dressed, Seb ate a piece of toast while Jim sat impatiently on the kitchen table, swinging his legs, and then finally left the house, Jim carrying his school bag with him for some reason Seb was sure would be revealed to him soon. 

Jim was eager that they find a field far away from anybody, and so they walked for about twenty minutes. Jim got tired after ten and demanded Sebastian carry him on his back. Seb grunted but agreed, trying not to mind that Jim kept chuckling to himself for no good reason at all. 

Finally, they found a field, one that Jim deemed acceptable, and Jim kicked his feet to be let down. Seb lowered him carefully to the ground, and Jim immediately went for his school bag. He had a face on that could only mean trouble, although Sebastian couldn’t tell if it was the good or the bad kind.

“I have a surprise for you,” Jim announced with a drawl, and then a sashay that ruined the effect completely. He couldn’t contain his excitement, and Sebastian half glared at him in the bright sunlight, wary and uncertain. 

His blue eyes flicked to the school bag and then back up to Jim’s eager face. He said nothing, just waited. 

“What? Not itching to find out why we’re here?” Jim asked in mocking tones. “I’m disappointed, ‘Bastian. Do you think I’d agree to walk for twenty whole minutes if I didn’t have a good reason for it? Hm?” 

Sebastian knew full well that Jim didn’t do anything that didn’t benefit him in some way. He didn’t need reminding of that. 

Still he refused to respond. He looked out at the scenery, the sprawling fields in the distance, looking like patchwork, a far-off tractor, trees all over the place. He took a deep breath and tried to absorb it all, the serenity. 

Jim watched Sebastian for a bit, marvelling at his gorgeous figure, highlighted by the golden sunlight that streamed all over him. He’d remember that image for a long time, he supposed, seeing as this was such a special day. Deciding it was time, he walked over to where Sebastian stood and looked out over the scenery with him. 

“I know you, ‘Bastian,” he said quietly. “I know that things aren’t quite right inside your head. But I think I know how to make it all better.” 

Jim ran his fingertips over the back of Sebastian’s neck. He felt Seb’s breath hitch delightfully. 

“You’re so angry, aren’t you? Underneath it all.” 

“Don’t,” Sebastian grunted through gritted teeth. He sounded like he was in pain. 

“Don’t be afraid of it,” Jim whispered intimately. “All this time you’ve tried to lock it up under your skin, and you’ve done a wonderful job. But what’s the point of all that lovely fire if you can’t use it?” 

“Not supposed to use it,” Sebastian insisted. Jim’s fingers continued to dance over the nape of Sebastian’s neck. 

“I want you to use it,” he said simply. “I want you to turn your weakness into your strength. That temper of yours could do wonderful things if you let it.” 

Suddenly his fingers were gone and Jim had sashayed away. Before Sebastian could even look up, a box appeared in front of him on the grass, placed there by a smirking Jim. 

“What is it?” 

“Take a look,” Jim advised with amusement in his voice. 

Sebastian’s curiosity got the better of him. He crouched down, reached out with his large, careful fingers, and unfastened each metal clasp with a satisfying click. He raised the lid of the box and let out a low breath as he saw what was inside. 

“You like it, don’t you?” Jim breathed, standing beside Sebastian, his hand resting on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Go on. Have a good look. Get a feel for it.” 

The blond swallowed thickly and then sniffed. 

He reached into the metal box and picked up the cool handgun with tentative fingers. He felt the heat rush out of his hand, bonding his palm to the object with a sense of danger and potential elation that he couldn’t put into words. 

Jim chuckled lowly and stroked Sebastian’s shoulder. 

“It’s loaded already,” he informed Sebastian. “How about you show me what you can do, hm?” 

“I’ve never shot a gun before,” Sebastian said quietly, his tone reverent. Jim could practically feel the energy building up inside his best friend, the way his body seemed to tighten with purpose. 

Jim smirked and reached out to help Sebastian up, bringing him to his full height with tender touches. 

“There’s nobody here to see or hear us,” he said quietly, feeling his own excitement build. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s nobody to stop us. Shoot something for me, Sebby. Go on.” 

Sebastian changed the gun between his hands, getting used to the weight of it. Being ambidextrous, Jim knew he could choose either hand to take his first shot. He wondered which he’d use in the end. His money was on the right, because that seemed the more natural choice. 

However, Sebastian surprised him by placing it in his left hand. 

“For you,” Sebastian mumbled by way of explanation. Jim was left handed, and the thought that Sebastian should consider this made Jim’s entire body tingle. 

“And you know how to hold it?” Jim asked quietly. 

Sebastian nodded his head. 

“Two hands, always. Gotta be ready for recoil. Right hand’s working as support. Finger off the trigger until I need to shoot,” he growled lowly. 

Jim listened to Sebastian with a sense of pure and utter attraction. He felt his eyes close briefly, although he forced them open again so he could see Sebastian getting his footing, trying to adjust his posture to emulate all those men Sebastian had studied in his army books and in his spy novels. 

“And I thought I was going to have to teach you the basics,” Jim drawled with a grin. “You’re impressing me, darling.” 

“Always wanted a gun,” Sebastian responded roughly. His attention, for once, had been completely stolen from Jim. Oddly, Jim found that he didn’t mind. 

To remind him of his presence, Jim placed his hand on the small of Sebastian’s back. 

“Shall we start with some cans?” he asked quietly. 

Sebastian grunted something that could have meant yes or no. 

At that moment, there was a rustling in the nearby trees. A group of starlings emerged, flying in formation across the blue sky. 

“How about a live target?” Jim found himself whispering, right into Sebastian’s ear. 

He wasn’t sure how Sebastian would react to that. It was a gamble. But to his immense pleasure, a crooked, cruel grin broke across Sebastian’s face.

The blond raised his arms, lined himself up, kept his blue eyes open, fixed on the birds as they flew innocently through the sky. Sebastian bent his knees slightly, clearly imitating a familiar picture from one of his army books or posters. 

Jim kept his hand on the small of Sebastian’s back, feeling for the tension in his blood, although oddly, Sebastian seemed to remain admirably relaxed. His body gave off a feeling of intense concentration, but his muscles didn’t harden. He was a natural. 

“Go on,” Jim whispered cruelly, standing on his tiptoes so he could breathe right into Sebastian’s ear. “For me?” 

Sebastian’s blue eyes seemed to intensify, his jaw set, he took a steady breath, and then he pulled the trigger. 

The shot rang out through the surrounding countryside, almost like a car backfiring. It made Jim jump, although to his credit he didn’t gasp. Sebastian didn’t make a single movement of shock. He was watching the flock of birds intently, desperately. 

And then, almost in slow motion, a single brown body hurtled to the ground, hitting the grass with a dull and distant thud. The other starlings scattered and protested, terrified, disappearing into the summer morning. 

Jim’s ears rang with the noise, and he realised he should probably have covered them. The world seemed hazy for a moment, as though he’d been present at the site of a bomb going off. He leaned close to Sebastian to ground himself and closed and opened his eyes as his body started to return to normal. 

Seb made no indication whatsoever that the noise had bothered him. He lowered the gun carefully, responsibly, and clicked on the safety. 

“Sheer beginner’s luck, or a special talent?” Jim wondered aloud as Sebastian’s chest heaved with pride. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Raj rented them bikes the next day so they could go a bit further on their own. Jim declined his and decided to perch on the handlebars of Sebastian’s own bike. Seb didn’t seem to mind at all, and he was extra careful not to do anything dangerous with Jim sitting in front of him. 

After half an hour of cycling, Sebastian pulled over in a nearby field full of yellow buttercups and daisies. He wished he had a camera on him so he could get a shot to take home. 

Sebastian lay his jacket out on the grass so Jim could rest on it, and Seb slumped down on his back beside him. Jim turned onto his side to watch Sebastian, the way his face looked golden in the sunlight, the pleasure he was clearly experiencing just from having the heat on his skin and the fresh air all over him. 

“You’re close to happy,” Jim hummed, reaching out to stroke a strand of Sebastian’s blond hair out of his face. 

“Am I?” 

“Yes,” Jim confirmed. “I don’t often see you like this.” 

“Well, I guess there isn’t usually much to be happy about,” Sebastian responded with a vague shrug. He took another breath of the clean air and sighed. Jim thought he might have fallen asleep because he was silent for so long. 

“If I told you to shoot a person,” Jim said suddenly. “Would you do it?” 

Sebastian cracked open a blue eye and put up a hand to shield it from the glare of the sun. 

“Yeah, I would,” he agreed.

Well, that was simple. But Jim had expected as much. When you’d already taken part in two murders, one more was hardly going to dent your conscience. And Sebastian knew full well that Jim wouldn’t let him get arrested. The level of trust between them was stronger than anything Jim had ever known or witnessed. 

“You told me you’d do anything for me, a few months ago,” Jim reminded Sebastian, stroking his cheek softly. Sebastian grunted his agreement. He was obviously getting sleepy again. 

Jim shifted closer and rested his cheek against Sebastian’s chest. The Sebastian of a year ago would have pushed him away with embarrassment. His new and improved Sebby draped an arm around him lazily. His brain hadn’t yet caught up with his body on that score, but Jim knew it wouldn’t be long now. 

“Maybe I’ll bring you back here one day?” Jim suggested quietly. “We could have a holiday here to ourselves. Nobody to tell us what to do or where to go.” 

“You hate the countryside,” Sebastian breathed out with a yawn. 

“Well, we’d be primarily based in the city,” Jim explained. “But I don’t see why you couldn’t have a treat every so often. You like the fresh air.” 

Sebastian grunted his agreement again. But he still didn’t understand.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The rest of the week was spent messing about in the village, laughing at the local people, and Sebastian getting to grips with the handgun. It was like something out of a dream, Seb reckoned, like something from someone else’s life. He knew he didn’t deserve to feel this good. 

He’d expertly pushed aside his thoughts about Dawn leaving so it wouldn’t spoil his week. India, where she and Raj had decided to get married and stay for a while until they got settled, seemed too far away. Raj wanted Dawn to meet his family and Dawn was keen on doing some voluntary work out there. 

“It only takes a plane journey,” Jim had consoled him one night, knowing full well what Sebastian was thinking of. “It seems a long way, but the world is a small place, ‘Bastian.” 

Seb didn’t think it was a small place. India was in another continent. Way off. A world away from dreary London, grey and shitty and always raining. India, from what Raj had described, was colourful, full of noise and smells and movement. Sebastian instinctively longed for it, although he wasn’t sure if it was the country he wanted to travel to, or if he just wanted to be close to Dawn. 

He felt jealous that Dawn was escaping, not that he’d admit to that. And he felt betrayed, too. Because now he and Jim only had each other, and what if he wasn’t good enough to care for Jim on his own?

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The last evening with Dawn and Raj was full of forced cheerfulness. They did everything they could to keep the atmosphere light, but Sebastian was growing sad about them leaving, and it took a lot of Jim’s effort to keep him from skulking off by himself. 

“You’ll have to send us presents,” Jim declared at the table as he stole the chocolate flake from Sebastian’s ice cream. “And photographs too. Dawn, you can ride an elephant.” 

Dawn, Raj and Jim laughed. Sebastian mixed his ice cream up with his spoon and kept his head bowed. 

“We’re going to stay with my sister Narinder for a month, and then we’ll see what happens,” Raj told Jim with a smile. “I haven’t seen my family for a long time.” 

“I hope they like me,” Dawn said hopefully. Jim rolled his eyes. If they didn’t like her then it wouldn’t be because of some failing on her part, it would be because they were small-minded. Even Jim found it impossible to dislike Dawn, and he’d tried his very best to start with. 

“They’ll love you,” Raj reassured her, patting her hand. Jim admired the way his tanned hand looked against Dawn’s pale one. They fitted together nicely, even if a lot of people might not think so.

Some people were just ignorant, Raj had said to Jim on the way to an exhibit on nuclear energy months ago. The world was a changing place, and one day things would be better. 

Jim had a high tolerance level for Raj, because he supposed Raj had some idea of what poor Sebastian was going through, and Jim probably would too. Jim knew that there were people that didn’t like Raj and Dawn being together because they were from different places. He’d heard about what people called Raj on the street, because of his skin colour and his accent, even though he was a scientist and had lots of qualifications. Jim was glad Raj and Dawn were getting married despite all the stupid people that didn’t want them to. 

People didn’t want him to stay with Seb either, but they were wrong. Verity called them codependent and overly attached, but Jim thought it was far simpler than that. It was love. 

Jim cleared his throat to remind the pair of them that he and Sebastian were in the room. The way the looked at each other made Jim feel sick, although he forgave them, because he thought he understood. 

“Perhaps you boys can come out and see us?” Raj suggested as he poured himself another glass of water. “When we’re settled. You could come and see the sights for yourself. You’d like the Taj Mahal, Jim. It was built by an emperor.” 

Jim nodded his head. He would like the Taj Mahal a lot, he knew. He liked grand and beautiful buildings. 

“And maybe you’d like the jungle, Seb?” Dawn added, trying to include the blond teen that currently looked like he wished he could be anywhere but at that table. Jim knew that Seb was fighting not to show how miserable he was. He was experiencing grief already, at the loss of the woman he’d accepted as his sister. “Or the mountains? India seems like your sort of place.” 

Raj nodded his head, catching on. “And the food is brilliant, Seb,” he said with a smile. “Maybe a bit hot for Jim’s taste, but it seems like your kind of thing. You strike me as a traveller.” 

Sebastian lifted his head, intrigued by that against his will. 

“Do I?” 

“Definitely,” Raj agreed, taking Dawn’s hand again. “You’re a man of the world.” 

“He is,” Jim said proudly, reaching out in the exact same way that Raj had and taking Sebastian’s hand. At first, Seb didn’t respond, but Jim stroked his knuckles tenderly and like a switch had been flicked, he opened his palm and allowed Jim to link their fingers. 

They sat together for a while longer, chatting and laughing, and whenever he felt Sebastian starting to slump, Jim gave his hand an affectionate squeeze which brought him back to the present. But it had to end eventually, and Jim went off to bed early, so did Raj, leaving Dawn and Sebastian sitting together in the cosy kitchen. 

“Seb,” Dawn began in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry that I’m leaving.”

Sebastian sniffed. “Not your fault. You’ve got to live your life,” he said valiantly, pushing aside his own feelings. “India sounds alright.” 

“I know about what’s happening at school,” she said after a moment. 

“Jim told you?” 

“He’s worried,” Dawn admitted. “I wish you’d said something. I could have tried to help.” 

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed now. 

“Nothing anyone can do. They think I’m a faggot and I am.” 

Dawn frowned and reached across the table to take Sebastian’s hand. 

“Seb, don’t talk about yourself like that,” she told him softly. “They’re the ones with the problem, not you. You’ve got to be strong and ignore them. Everyone’s different, and that’s a good thing. It doesn’t change you as a person.” 

Sebastian swallowed and looked up. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, a sign of inner turmoil that Dawn immediately recognised. 

“I don’t get why,” he finally grunted out. “People treat me like shit now, and I haven’t changed.” 

Dawn looked sad. 

“There are lots of things I don’t understand about the world, Seb, and you know me, I’m hardly the brain of the year. But I think that anyone who treats you badly because you like men instead of women isn’t worth your time.” 

Sebastian was touched by that. He wasn’t used to being accepted. 

“Maybe one day you can come out to India with your handsome husband and you can stay with Raj and me?” Dawn suggested with a gentle smile. 

Sebastian sniffed and nodded his head. 

“Should probably go to bed,” he finally mumbled. “Jim’ll wonder what’s keeping me.” 

“I’ll keep in touch,” Dawn promised. “I want to hear all about what happens with you. And you can fill me in on all the stupid rules Verity introduces. I’ve heard she might be going for a ban on fizzy drinks next.” 

That made Sebastian grin. Usually, Dawn wasn’t allowed to criticise Verity, but he supposed seeing as she didn’t work for her anymore, Dawn was now free to say what she wanted. 

“Sleep well, Seb,” she said as Sebastian got up from the table, put his bowl in the sink, and shuffled off to the bedroom. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The drive home seemed to fly by, and Sebastian spent most of the journey with his forehead pressed against the window as he watched the scenery turn from green to grey. It started to rain as they entered London, something which pleased Jim who was getting far too hot. It only served to further depress Seb. 

“Well,” Raj said jovially, helping Sebastian with the cases when they were parked outside the home. “I suppose this is goodbye for now.” 

“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed. 

“It’s been nice having you and Jim about,” Raj continued kindly. “Dawn really cares about you both. But you especially, Seb.” 

“Yeah, well, she’s like my sister,” Sebastian grunted, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s been here since I was five.” 

Raj nodded and stretched out his arm, holding out his hand. Sebastian examined it and then with a begrudging grunt, took his hand, shaking it firmly. 

“I promise I’ll be good to her,” Raj told Sebastian. “You don’t have to worry on that score.” 

“Did you mean it?” Sebastian found himself asking suddenly. “About me coming out to India if I wanted?” 

‘If it all goes to shit here,’ he added to that question inside his head. 

Raj smiled and nodded. “You and Jim are both welcome,” he agreed kindly. “Give us some warning beforehand, and I’ll make sure there’s a place for you.” 

That set Sebastian’s mind at ease. Dawn wasn’t going away forever. He could still get to her if he needed to. 

The two males nodded at each other, and then Raj turned away to go back to the car. 

Jim emerged at Sebastian’s side having used the bathroom. He’d spent most of the last portion of the journey home complaining that he needed a wee and had been disturbed to find out that since there was nowhere to stop, it would have to be done in an empty bottle or not at all. He’d chosen to hold it in, the prospect of urinating in a bottle beneath him. 

He took Sebastian’s hand, getting soap suds on Seb’s palm from where he’d just washed his hands, and watched Raj get into the car. 

Together, they waited for Dawn to return. She had to say goodbye to the other children first. They knew that Dawn was being presented with a card and flowers in the living room, and probably being climbed all over by little children that loved her. 

None of them loved her so much as Seb though, Jim mused, as he stroked Sebastian’s fingers supportively. 

Dawn appeared in the hall and went to Jim and Sebastian who were standing together on the doorstep. Their hands were linked. Sebastian looked like he was biting through his tongue to stop himself from crying or showing emotion. Jim kept on peering at him with an unfamiliar softness that somehow made Dawn feel better about leaving Sebastian. Leaving her brave little soldier that had suffered so much and become so attached to her. 

But he was almost grown-up now, she reminded herself. He’d be sixteen in the autumn, no longer that scared, shy, blond that had followed her about and tugged on her skirt when he wanted to ask a question. He was taller than she was, and had the look of a teen growing into a shockingly handsome man. He’d done incredibly well, considering his start in life. 

Jim politely took a step back. He’d still be able to hear everything, but it at least gave the illusion of privacy. 

“I’m so proud of you, Seb. I’m really going to miss you,” Dawn said quietly, her eyes filling with tears. 

Sebastian had never been given a proper goodbye before. It soothed him somehow. When he’d been torn away from his parents, it had been sudden. With Ben it had been sudden. With Sophie and Newt he’d refused to let them talk to him properly. This was the first time anyone had been honest with him, the first time anyone had been fair. 

She gave him a hug, and Sebastian found himself hugging back uncharacteristically. When Dawn pulled away he stood up straight, his jaw set bravely so he wouldn’t cry. 

“I’ll look after him, don’t worry,” Jim said cheerfully, earning him a watery laugh from Dawn. He was taking the attention away from Sebastian so he wouldn’t be embarrassed.

“Well, you two be good,” she managed to say, her face crumpling with tears. “I’ll write and send you my new number. You can call me whenever you want. No matter what time it is in India, or how small the problem.” 

Jim knew his clock would be handy for that, with all its different time zones. 

He waited for Sebastian to speak, to say goodbye or whatever else it was he needed to get out of his system. But he stood still and resolute. He’d shut himself off so he wouldn’t cry. 

“Have a good time in India,” Jim said to cover the silence. “And tell Raj that if he finds anything else out or gets any leaflets, he still has to send them.”

“I will,” Dawn agreed. “Well… I’ll miss you both. Goodbye…”

She turned and walked back towards the car. Jim took Sebastian’s hand again and found it stiff and unyielding. He wasn’t even sure that Sebastian was looking at Dawn properly. 

Raj fixed his glasses on his nose and waved jauntily from the driver’s seat, and then the car disappeared from sight. 

Dawn was gone.

“Just us now,” Jim said quietly, starting to try and lead Sebastian back indoors. “But it’ll be okay, ‘Bastian. I’ll look after you.”


	67. Goodbye Mr Moriarty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim's father is dead and his little sister wants to see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of suicide.

In February, when Sebastian had turned sixteen and Jim fourteen, Jim was called away from their bedroom, where Sebastian was sitting at the main desk, surrounded by revision books. Jim had been perched on his lap, helping him to remember facts and figures with the latest and best memory techniques. Seb’s brain was ready to burst with the pressure Jim was putting on him, but Jim demanded excellence. 

“You’ve got a very lovely brain, Sebby,” Jim often told him, before giving him a strict slap on the wrist, usually at the moments when Sebastian had growled and thrown his books across the room with frustration. “But how can I be proud of you if you don’t show everyone what you can do? Hm?”

The bedroom had been reorganised recently. The bunk beds were now gone, and in their place were two single beds on either side of the window, which were deemed more acceptable for teenagers. The desk was on Jim’s side of the bedroom, and Sebastian’s bed was closest to the door. He still liked to be nearer the exit, in just the same way that he’d preferred to sleep closer to the ground when they’d had the bunks. Jim resented not being allowed the childish indulgence of bunk beds, but he had to admit, it was pleasant to turn over in the night and see Sebastian softly snoring just across the room. Seb slept sprawled out, his large feet always poking out from under the covers, his chest rising and falling. Unlike Jim, who curled up and swaddled himself in his duvet, Sebastian often ended up with half his duvet on the bedroom floor and his face pressed into his pillow. Jim found it endearing, although sometimes when Sebastian started to snore, Jim felt the strong urge to trot over to his bed and hold his nose, just so he’d wake up suddenly and know to do better next time. So far, though, Jim found himself content to watch unknowing Sebastian until he succumbed to sleep. The snoring was something he could put up with. It reminded him, in the moments of sudden mania or depression that could hit him in the night, that he wasn’t alone. There was another person a few metres away that wouldn’t let the darkness get him. 

Jim reluctantly hopped off Sebastian’s lap, leaving him to pore over his science textbooks. His exams were creeping closer and Jim was expecting top marks from Seb, even in Physics, which Sebastian found tough to wrap his head around. Verity was getting lax with her rules, but Jim thought what Sebastian needed was boundaries and a clear aim. He always seemed to respond better when he had a goal in sight. 

His need for perfection in all he did was taking its toll on Sebastian, but Jim was hardly going to let him get away with anything less than excellence. There was no reason why he should fail. If he did, Jim would make him retake his exams until he achieved his full potential. After all, Jim would not be content to admit he’d given away his heart to a boy that could get less than ‘A’ grades in his exams. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Verity was looking grey and old. With Dawn gone, she was struggling to keep up discipline in the house. The little ones were running riot now, making a mess and too much noise, and the older ones weren’t inclined to help Verity keep control. Jim took great pleasure in watching Verity’s battle. He had no sympathy for the woman. 

“Your father’s passed away,” she said shortly, without any preamble. With Jim, that wasn’t necessary.

Jim raised an eyebrow. 

“Suicide?” 

“Yes,” Verity confirmed. There was no trace of grief or loss or even surprise on his face, she noticed. If she’d been asked to describe his expression without context, she would have said vague amusement, as though someone had told a particularly filthy joke in his hearing. 

“How sad,” Jim sighed insincerely. “Oh well. I suppose there isn’t much money coming my way?”

Verity had ceased to be shocked by Jim’s attitude. His world revolved around himself and his own amusement. There was no trace of empathy in his body. At least, that was the conclusion she had come to based on her observations. After all, Verity was never there to witness Jim perching in Sebastian’s lap and stroking his hair tenderly. She had never seen Jim kissing Sebastian’s cheek and poking him on the nose. She had never witnessed Jim’s moments of vulnerability at night which sent him into fits of hysterical crying, which only Sebastian could soothe him out of. 

“No,” she said firmly. “I’m afraid not.”

“Tragic,” Jim drawled, already sliding out of his chair. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll just get back to what I was-“ 

“That’s not all,” Verity said as sternly as she could. Jim raised an eyebrow at her. Clearly he’d known there was more information coming his way. He was playing with her. Like a cat might play with a mouse. It set Verity’s skin on edge. There was a look to his eyes now, one she found repulsive. 

“It’s about your sister,” Verity continued. 

“What about her?” 

“She’s going to be fostered and hopefully adopted.” 

“Wonderful. Good for her. Now, if you don’t mind, I was trying to explain nuclear physics to Sebastian. He has exams coming up and science isn’t his strong point.” 

“She’ll want to see you,” Verity said, taking a sip of cold coffee. 

Jim grew serious and scowled. He didn’t like being dictated to by anyone, least of all Verity. What Katie Moriarty wanted was none of his concern. He’d left his family behind back in Dublin all those years ago. All he had and all he wanted was with him in London.

“No,” he announced. 

“Just before she goes.” 

“No.” 

“Jim, she’s your little sister. I realise you don’t hold your family in particularly high esteem, but she’s been asking for you. Think about how she’s feeling. She’s alone in the world now.” 

“I don’t care,” Jim declared with a wave of his hand. “I never asked for her. It’s not my fault she was born to the same two useless parents as me.” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian, much to Jim’s dismay although not surprise, had verged towards agreeing with Verity’s stance on the matter. Although he was doing an admirable job at appearing not to take sides.

“You’ll want to see her, of course,” Jim drawled knowingly. “You’ll be curious about the little Moriarty, because we all know how you have a weakness for lonely Irish children with sad lives and big brown eyes…“ 

“Jim, stop it,” Sebastian said tiredly. He closed his books and stacked them up in a neat pile. 

“I never asked for a sister, you know. I’m not like you. I’d prefer not to have one. In fact, I’d prefer it if neither of us had ever been born in the first place.”

“Don’t say that.” 

“It’s true,” Jim shrugged. “Our parents should have died before we were conceived. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with this.” 

“This?” Sebastian asked, turning his full attention to Jim and watching him with concern. 

“This!” Jim suddenly shouted, gesturing around the room and fixing Sebastian with a fierce glare. His arms flew out on either side of him dramatically, but this was no longer deliberate theatre. Jim was growing into such displays of fury. Sebastian was learning to get used to them. 

“You’ll get better,” Sebastian said insisted. “The meds’ll-“ 

“I’m not talking about me being crazy!” Jim yelled furiously. He didn’t appreciate that tone one bit. He didn’t want Sebastian’s pity. Sebastian could take his pity and use it to strangle himself to death for all Jim cared. Well, Jim thought so in that moment at least. “We’re talking about the little orphan brat in Dublin!” 

Seb blinked slowly and then took a breath. He wanted the screaming to stop, but he wasn’t going to lie to Jim. He was going to be honest. He had to be.

“She’s still got you,” he said quietly. 

“Oh?” Jim asked, suddenly amused, chuckling. “Has she?” 

Sebastian tried not to be put off by the swift change of Jim’s mood. 

“Yeah.” 

“I won’t see her, Sebastian. I won’t allow it. I hope you know that,” Jim told him. He said it like a threat. Like Sebastian had hand-crafted this situation to inconvenience him.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” Sebastian insisted, his voice as calm as he could make it. When Jim flared up, the best way to deal with him was stay on a level. He could be sane enough for the both of them. He could ground Jim again.

“And I think, darling,” Jim shot back venomously. “That you talk too much for a boy that isn’t even half as clever as I am. You make me sick!” 

Seb sighed and shook his head. He tried not to absorb those words. Instead, he let them scatter around him, unable to pierce his armour. You had to develop a thick skin where Jim was concerned. When he was angry or scared his first instinct was to lash out at whoever was closest to him, which usually meant Seb.

“Think about it,” Sebastian said calmly.

“Don’t you tell me what to do!” 

“It’s advice. You don’t have to fucking take it,” Seb grunted, rubbing at his forehead. 

“I didn’t ask for your advice!” Jim raged. He grabbed the pillow from the nearest bed, Sebastian’s, and threw it at Seb’s head. Sebastian caught it just in time and placed it down on the desk carefully. 

“Yeah? Well, you got it,” Sebastian said flatly. “Perils of having a best mate.”

Jim’s expression suddenly softened and he laughed. His eyes went gentle and adoring, all in one sudden moment. 

“See, that’s what I like about you, ‘Bastian,” he said affectionately.

Seb raised an eyebrow. Wary. Jim flitted between moods so quickly now that he constantly felt as though the carpet was being pulled out from under him. It took a hell of a lot of energy and concentration to keep up.

“You aren’t scared of me and you tell me the truth. Such a good and loyal knight.” 

“Jim-“ 

“Advising your king,” Jim continued in mocking tones. “Risking my displeasure just to be honest. How very noble of you.” 

Sebastian scratched the back of his neck. Jim was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with of late. Sometimes it was like trying to dismantle a bomb that could go off without any warning. It was the medication, Sebastian told himself firmly. It wasn’t right for Jim. It was making him erratic. Because this couldn’t be his Jim Moriarty, the eight year old that had sashayed and giggled and cried and demanded chocolate in his high-pitched Irish squeal. The little boy with icy cold feet who liked to dance and scamper about and drape himself in Seb’s dressing gown, like a miniature king dressed in robes. 

“I think you should see her,” Seb finally said, bracing himself for a verbal attack. “Even if it’s just once. She’s lost her mum and dad.” 

“You think I should say goodbye to the little sweetheart?” 

“If she’s asking to see you, then yeah. I do.” 

There was a long pause where Jim seemed to ponder this. Sebastian sat very still, trying not to draw his fire. Then suddenly, Jim sighed. 

“Fine.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

Seb was stunned. Jim had never changed his mind after his counsel before. He was half convinced that this was part of a trick. 

“I’ll see her,” Jim told Sebastian again. “Once. To shut you up.” 

“Right… cheers.” 

Jim noticed that Sebastian looked uncertain. And for some reason that made him cross. 

“But I can’t promise I’ll be nice,” he added sharply. “I’m not big brother material. This is for you, ‘Bastian. Not for her. And it means you owe me a debt.” 

“Fine,” Seb agreed wearily.


	68. Katie Moriarty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katie Moriarty visits Jim in London before she gets adopted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of suicide and homophobic language.

Katie Moriarty was just a little girl. She was not Jim, above and beyond his age, brilliant and intense and intelligent. She was only just seven years old and wore a purple dress with frills on it and a pink, flowery headband in her dark hair.

Physically, she resembled Jim. Their eyes were identical in size, shape and shade, although Jim’s held more depth and intelligence than Katie’s, which were more hopeful and soft. She was just as skinny as Jim had been when he arrived with pale arms and legs. They’d both come from a very poor home, Sebastian knew. He’d been told that much by Jim. Back in Dublin, dinner had often been soup or nothing at all. Money was scarce and Jim had learned to live with the empty feeling of hunger in his stomach. Seb supposed it was the same with Katie. 

The differences, though, were in mannerisms, tone of voice, and facial expressions. Clearly, Katie was an ordinary child. She was of below average intelligence, and held an obvious sweetness to her. She smiled without much substance, and when she peered around the room, it was with curiosity and excitement, her eyes honest and trusting. 

Katie was brought into the television room by a care worker, and the moment she spotted Jim, her little face lit up with excitement. She gave a jump and pushed her hair behind her ears. 

“Jammy!” she exclaimed. Her accent was much more extreme than Jim’s had ever been. Sebastian instantly liked her, but he’d always been fond of children, especially the little ones.

Jim peered at his little sister with distaste. She was stupid, he realised with disappointment. She was ordinary and dull and not worth his time. She had his eyes, only they made her look sweet, with her little dimples and her simple smile. Her dark hair curled slightly at her shoulders. She was pretty for a girl, Jim thought, but that seemed to be her only saving grace. She was too similar to his mother for him to smile back at her. 

The little girl seemed to pick up on Jim’s coldness, and paused mid run. She had been on her way over to give her beloved big brother a hug. At home, there were lots of photos of Jim. Katie had always missed him and often prayed to God to send him back to her so he could help cook the food when Da forgot or fell asleep in bed for days at a time. 

She wanted to cry because Jim wasn’t smiling at her. He looked like he hated her. But then she remembered that Da was dead, and maybe that was why he wouldn’t smile? Yes, that was probably it. 

Her attention was suddenly drawn to the boy standing next to Jim. Well, he was a man really. He was handsome and looked strong and his eyes were blue and kind. Katie wanted to hug him. She needed someone to hug her. She missed her Da and when she thought about him she wanted to cry and cry and cry. Mammy had left her and never come back, and now Da had too. Even Jimmy had gone away and was all different now. 

Jimmy was almost a man, not like in his photographs. He had funny pointy eyebrows and an impatient look. He was standing very close to the other handsome boy, and it made him seem small and skinny because the blond boy had muscles and was very tall indeed. 

“Jammy, aren’t you happy to see me?” she asked in a sad little voice. 

“Not really,” Jim answered coldly. 

The blond boy looked like he’d been punched in the stomach. He gave Jimmy an odd look and then smiled at her. He had a nice smile, Katie thought. He was a kind, good boy. Not like nasty, naughty Jimmy. Maybe the people on her council estate in Dublin had been right about Jim all along? 

“So… er, you must be Katie,” the nice boy said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “It’s good to meet you. I, er…” 

He paused, looking conflicted, and then suddenly seemed to decide on something. 

He took a step away from Jim, towards her, and then crouched down so that he was on her level. It was what Dawn had done with Sebastian all those years ago. He smiled at her properly, and suddenly Katie felt very safe. 

“Like the dress,” he commented. “Purple’s a good colour.” 

“Purple’s my favourite,” Katie told him, nodding her head. “An’ I got bought this special headband like Alice from the books. Do I look like Alice?” 

Sebastian grinned and nodded his head. “Yeah, you do.” 

Katie beamed and twisted the edge of her dress shyly with her pale hands. 

“I’m Seb,” he introduced himself. “I’m Jim’s best mate.” 

“I’m Katie!” Katie said, doing a curtsey like a princess from a book. “Katie Moriarty an’ I’m seven.”

Jim glared at the pair of them. They were both traitors. Sebastian had, as expected, taken a shine to Katie Moriarty, and Katie was now ignoring him completely, instead offering every ounce of her attention to Seb. 

“Can I come an’ sit on your lap?” Katie asked shyly. Jim made a disgusted noise, but Seb nodded and sat down on the sofa. Katie hauled herself up and sat on his legs, watching Jim curiously. 

“Why ain’t Jammy speakin’ to me?” Katie asked Sebastian in a very loud whisper. 

Jim was not content to be talked about. He cleared his throat and rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t you know it’s rude to talk about someone when they’re in the room with you?” he snapped, moving to sit on the sofa with them, but leaving as much distance between them as he could.

“No,” Katie answered stupidly, shaking her head. Jimmy’s voice wasn’t the way she’d imagined it being at all. It was sharp and angry. Da’s had been quiet and tired. Mammy’s had been optimistic and a bit desperate. She didn’t know if she liked Jimmy’s voice or not. 

“Well, it is.” 

“How old are you, Jammy?” 

“Fourteen,” Jim said shortly. “You could have worked that out for yourself.” 

‘I’m not good with numbers and countin’,” Katie admitted. “I’m good at drawin’ and paintin’ and I like animals an’ birds.” 

Sebastian looked impressed, although Jim could see the expression was put-on. “What sort of things do you paint, Katie?” he asked. 

Flushed with joy at being asked a question by the handsome, blond, kind boy, Katie squirmed and chattered. 

“I paint pretty things. Like butterflies an’ parrots an’ sometimes I even paint made up birds and dragons an’ things with wings.” 

“Dragons aren’t real,” Jim commented spitefully. He didn’t like the comfortable way Katie was cuddling up to Sebastian, nor did he like the disgustingly soft expression on his Sebastian’s usually grim face. 

“I know they’re not real,” Katie told him, laughing a bit. “That’d be silly, Jammy. I only pretend they’re real so I can draw ‘em.” 

“It’s Jim. Not ‘Jammy,’” Jim spat out, infuriated now. “Call me ‘Jammy’ again and I’ll cut out your tongue.” 

Sebastian looked pained. While he understood that you had to be soft around kids, Jim didn’t seem to see that. He was acting just like his usual self and showing no understanding or making any allowances for Katie’s young age. 

Katie blinked, confused, and then looked up at Sebastian. She was wondering if her big brother meant it or not. 

“Tell you what,” Sebastian said, distracting her. “I reckon we’ve got some pens and paper. Do you want to do some drawing now?” 

She nodded her head eagerly. 

“I can do a picture for you!” she declared, slipping off his lap so Sebastian could stand up. He gave her a smile, gave Jim a pleading look, and then disappeared from the room. 

Jim stared at his little sister. The good version of him. The person he could have been. Sweet and innocent and naïve. Not plagued with mania and depression, with a racing brain that never stopped, not filled with the constant desire to end her own existence. Not clinging to life by her fingertips. 

He hated her. He truly hated her. She was everything he wasn’t. She was the child his mother had loved. She was the child that hadn’t ended up crazy, despite growing up in the same environment as him. For years, Jim had consoled himself that it was his upbringing that made him who he was. That was why he was broken. Insane. But now he knew that wasn’t the case. It couldn’t be. Because here was little chatty Katie Moriarty, sweet and affectionate and horribly, horribly sane. 

And she was watching him too. Looking scared and curious. She sat on the floor and drew her knees to her, sucking on her right kneecap. 

“What?” Jim snapped. ‘Why are you staring at me?” 

“I was thinking of Da,” Katie said quietly, still watching him. It was only now that Jim got an idea of how impressive those brown Moriarty eyes were, how captivating, even on a little girl like Katie. “An’ thinking that you’re the only one left.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “I’m glad he’s dead.” 

Katie looked shocked. “But we love him!” she exclaimed sincerely. “He’s our Da!”

“He was useless. You might not be able to see it yet, but one day you will,” Jim told his little sister coldly. “He didn’t feed me. He didn’t care for me. He did nothing.” 

Katie nibbled on her lower lip and looked sad. She loved her Da, but Jimmy was probably right. Jimmy was her big brother, and he wouldn’t lie. She loved him. 

“How was he with you?” Jim eventually found himself asking, his curiosity getting the better of him. He wanted to know if he had been unlovable, or if his father had simply been unable to love. 

But Katie misunderstood his question. She looked sad and started to suck on her knee again. Her eyes filled with tears. 

“In the end, Da didn’t talk much, Jammy. He got sad after Mammy died an’ never spoke an’ forgot to take me to school. An’ Mrs Harrogate, she’s the lady at the office, came over and found out there was no food or nothin’ and she looked in the bathroom ‘cause Da hadn’t come out for a whole day an’… an’…” 

She let out a sob, her face screwing up with despair. 

“An’ there was blood everywhere! In the tub, Jammy!” 

So he’d opened his wrists then. Interesting, Jim mused. 

Jim felt so uncomfortable that he didn’t know quite what to say. Katie, realising that Jim, like her father, wouldn’t comfort her, decided to cry to herself. She pulled a cushion off the sofa and hid her face behind it. She wanted Jimmy to love her, but he wouldn’t love her if she cried. And why wasn’t Jimmy sad? Why was he so mean?

Luckily, Sebastian chose that exact moment to return to the room, carrying a packet of coloured pens and some paper. He took in the scene quickly and put down his supplies.

“Hey, hey,” he mumbled as he spotted the pair of them, Jim looking ready to kill someone and Katie hiding her face behind a cushion. He had to make a split second decision about who to go to. “Don’t cry, Katie, yeah? What’s the matter?” 

Jim watched with a mixture of awe and disgust as Katie rushed over to Seb and threw herself at him, cuddling his legs as tightly as she could. 

“Jammy don’ care about the b-blood!” she sobbed. 

“What blood?” 

“Da’s blood all in the tub!” 

Jim glared coldly at Sebastian. He felt betrayed and oddly guilty. Because he didn’t care. He honestly didn’t. Not at all. And he knew he should have. 

Seb lifted Katie up into his arms and held her easily. She sobbed against his neck, clinging to him like a baby monkey. Jim felt another spike of jealousy at the way her legs curled around Sebastian’s body, even though he knew it was ludicrous of him. 

“It’s all over now, alright?” Seb soothed her. “You’re safe.” 

Sebastian’s expression was sad, but he was somehow managing to stop Katie from crying herself into hysterics. His fingers found her hair and stroked it. Jim almost hissed at that. 

“Is he in H-heaven?” Katie asked brokenly. Her accent was thick with despair.

Jim scoffed, ready to tell Katie that Heaven wasn’t real, but Seb shook his head at him firmly. 

“’Course he is,” Seb told Katie, rubbing her back. “He wouldn’t want you to be sad. You’re gonna have a brand new life now. I bet your new mum and dad’ll be really nice.” 

“They are!” Katie agreed with a sniff. “Mr and Mrs Jefferson. I met them three times. They have a little puppy that I get to share and say is mine.” 

“There you go, then,” Seb said with a smile. “You’ll get your own pup! I bet it’ll love you to bits.” 

“Do you think he will?” Katie asked breathlessly, entranced by the idea. She was swiftly forgetting about her tears. Jim was impressed by what Sebastian had managed, despite himself. 

“Yeah, ‘course.” 

“When I met him, he came up and sniffed me and licked me hand,” Katie chattered, all traces of sadness gone. “So I stroked him an’ I think he liked it.” 

“Wish I had a dog,” Sebastian said, rocking her gently as the tears dried on her face. “Or a cat. What d’you think of cats?” 

“I like ‘em,” Katie told Sebastian. “But not as much as dogs. I like the little puppies best.”

“Tell you what would be really fun, having a wild animal as a pet,” Sebastian said with a smile, using his story-teller voice. Jim had a sudden jolt of remembrance. Seb had spoken to him like that when he was eight, when he was crying and needed reassurance. “How about a lion?”

Katie giggled, that same Irish giggle that Jim had once possessed. “They might eat you!” 

“Nah, not me,” said Sebastian, deliberately acting daft, playing a part. “I could fight a lion with my bare hands.” 

Jim watched on with interest. Katie was utterly spellbound by Sebastian. She was following his every move, hanging on his every word. Jim could achieve that affect by fear and threats. At his school, a few muttered words could send the group scuttling off to do his bidding. But Sebastian could get people to follow him using a different type of power entirely. He could make people like him. Jim privately wished he could do that. 

“You couldn’t fight a lion!” Katie exclaimed, laughing. “But you could fight a kitty!” 

“Wouldn’t be a fair fight though, would it?” Seb said with a grin. “Me and a kitten.”

“The lady next door says one time Jammy killed a kitty cat,” Katie informed Sebastian with a tell-tale little voice, righteous and knowing. 

Jim’s ears pricked up suddenly. He didn’t like where this was going one bit. 

“She’s an old, haggy liar,” Jim informed his sister with disgust on his features. He glared at Sebastian, forbidding him to ask any further questions. 

“’M only sayin’ what she said, Jammy! And she said you were a demon child possessed by the Devil an’ you weren’t right in the brain.”

Jim looked furious at that less than flattering description of him. He’d been eight when he left Dublin. There was no way anyone could have known he was crazy. Most of all, he didn’t want Sebastian to hear these opinions and realise what he truly was. Mad. 

Sebastian saved him, however. He rocked Katie some more. 

“Sounds like that poor old lady’s a bit mental, doesn’t it?” Seb said with a grin, talking to Katie like she was a friend of his own age. She responded with a nod, keen to be included and given attention. 

“Jim’s just really smart,” Seb explained. “So a lot of people are jealous. But he can’t help being brainy, can he?”

Katie shook her head, instantly taking on whatever Sebastian told her as fact. 

“So Jammy’s not the Devil?” she asked curiously. 

Jim sat silently on his portion of the sofa and refused to react to that. He’d forgotten what it was like back in Dublin. The names he’d been called. The sense of alienation. Being reminded over and over that he was wicked and insane. 

He no longer listened to people like the lady that had lived next door, but it still hurt. Somewhere deep inside him. A place he wouldn’t admit to. 

“Nope, it’s all lies,” Sebastian said easily. “I reckon your neighbour sounds a bit batty herself, eh?"

“I knew it!” Katie declared happily, kicking her skinny legs and hugging Sebastian. “I knew you were a good big brother really, Jammy!” 

“It’s Jim,” Jim emphasised pointedly. 

“It’s just me accent!” she protested. “Yours is gone!”

It didn’t sound like it was gone to Sebastian, but Jim nodded. 

“It’s because I live in London now. It’s to be expected.”

“You sound all posh, Jammy. I mean, Jim.” Katie pointed out, trying her best to make Jim like her now she knew that he was good. 

“You can’t even remember my voice properly anyway. You were a baby when I left,” Jim snapped. 

“Can too!” 

“Can’t.” 

“I can!” 

Sebastian decided to step in before it descended into childish bickering. He sat Katie down at the table and handed her a purple felt tip pen. She eagerly started drawing, talking Sebastian through what she was trying to create as she worked. Some sort of bird city with parrots and doves and dragons. 

She was so engrossed in her drawing, that she didn’t see Sebastian reach out his hand to touch Jim’s for a brief moment. 

Jim’s eyes flickered up to Sebastian’s own. He knew what Sebastian was feeling. He felt sorry for him. Hearing about what the neighbours had said about him as a little boy had shaken Sebastian. It had hurt him. Whenever anyone hurt Jim, Sebastian felt it far more than Jim ever could. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Is Sebastian your husband, Jammy?” Katie asked after lunch, when her hours with Jim were almost over. She, Jim, and Sebastian had eaten sandwiches together, and she had spent most of her time talking to Sebastian, who she had decided she was in love with. Although he wasn’t in love with her back. Jim had spent most of the time moving closer and closer to Sebastian, like he was trying to drag him away from her. 

Sebastian had disappeared to use the bathroom, and now she felt safer and more comfortable with Jimmy. He wasn’t as scary as she’d thought now. He called Sebastian ‘Sebby’ which made her laugh, and they joked with each other using big words that she didn’t understand. Sebastian kept raising his eyebrows and being handsome, and Jimmy kept on telling him off, even though he wasn’t angry really. Katie thought watching them was nice.

“No, he isn’t. Why would you say that?” Jim asked sharply, looking defensive. 

“’Cause the people at home said you’re a queer one, a faggy, and that you like boys. Maybe.” 

Jim felt icy cold hatred in the pit of his stomach. His sister was only seven, yet she’d begun to repeat their narrow-minded idiocy. 

Still, it didn’t surprise him. The neighbours back in Dublin had been quick to jump to conclusions. He’d hated sports, refused to play roughly with the other boys, and liked to dress up in pretty clothes. Sometimes when he was shopping with his mother he stood and admired the ladies’ dresses in the shop windows. He’d been softly spoken and skinny and didn’t like to get his hands dirty. 

“Don’t use that word,” he snapped. 

“That’s what they said- so I was just wonderin’ if-“ 

“Shut up,” Jim suddenly commanded. He didn’t want his little sister asking about that sort of thing. While he would have been more than confident to talk of his sexuality to almost anyone else, things felt different with her. 

“I like Sebastian, so I don’t mind. He’s like a prince from a fairy story,” Katie declared in a happy little voice with a stupid sigh. 

“Do you think so?” Jim asked seriously. Now he was intrigued. A second Moriarty opinion might be helpful to hear. 

Katie nodded wisely, her curly hair bobbing. 

“If you don’t marry him, or if you can’t ‘cause it’s an abomination and they won’t let you, can I have him for my husband?” 

“No,” Jim said sharply. 

“Oh please, Jammy!” she whined, eyes large and sincere. 

“No. He’s mine.” 

“I knew!” she exclaimed. “I knew he was yours! I can tell!”

Jim narrowed his eyes. 

“How?” 

“Because he looks at you like Mammy used to look at Daddy.” 

That was the wrong thing to say. Jim remembered that look. Concerned, pitying, adoring, trying to excuse his useless behaviour, trying to make light of it. His mother had spent Jim’s whole childhood trying to keep his father from killing himself. The Depression, as Jim had once called it inside his head, was a curse. As a child he hadn’t understood about the chemical imbalance, the one he now had in common with his late father. All he remembered was wondering why his father never spoke and why he slept so much, and why his mother kept on doing things for him, even when he was useless.  


If Sebastian looked at him the way his mother had looked at his father, then that meant Sebastian thought he was mad. 

Jim glared at Katie, narrowing his eyes even further. He was nothing like his father. And Sebastian didn’t pity him. It wasn’t like that at all. Katie was an idiot. She didn’t understand. 

“Jammy?” 

“Yes? What?” 

“So does that mean he’s going to Hell? If he’s yours and you’re a boy?” 

Katie’s eyes were wide and worried. She didn’t have the same capacity for independent thought that he did. She didn’t care about science. She clearly believed everything their mother and father had told her.

“No,” Jim said firmly. “Hell isn’t real and Sebastian isn’t going there.”

“Are you sure?” she asked tentatively. “Or are you just sayin’ that ‘cause you and Sebastian don’t want to burn?” 

“Katie,” Jim said strictly, sighing and deciding to impart some wisdom to his little sister, before she disappeared forever. “Do you think God would let a person like Sebastian burn?” 

She thought about that for a moment and then shook her head. “No, Jammy. Seb’s nice.” 

“There you go, then,” Jim said with a wave of his hand. “Don’t listen to what they tell you. Not ever. Think for yourself.” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When it was time for Katie to go back to her foster home, she cried a bit and didn’t want to leave. Her care worker, who’d been sitting in the other room with Frank, told her it was time to say goodbye to Jim. 

Jim didn’t approach the crying little girl in the purple dress. He frowned at the sight of her. He didn’t like all that open emotion. It made him feel sick. 

Sebastian took over. He crouched down to Katie’s level and gave her a hug. Jim wasn’t going to give her affection, so it was important he provided that in his place. 

“Don’t cry, Katie,” he mumbled. “C’mon. Do you reckon that dragon you drew would cry?” 

She shook her head and sniffed. She snuggled against Sebastian, and Jim noticed that some snot went on Sebastian’s t-shirt. If that had been him he would have slapped her. But Sebastian just patted her on the back and even kissed her on the forehead. 

Jim took a step back. He was far more interested in watching Sebastian being tender with the little girl than having to speak to his sister. 

“You’ve gotta be brave, alright?” Seb advised with a smile. “Soon you can go and look after that little puppy, eh? And Mr and Mrs Jefferson sound great. You’re gonna have a great time.” 

“Do you promise?” 

She sounded so much like eight year old Jim that Sebastian had to take a moment to collect himself. 

“Promise,” he said with a nod. 

That seemed to calm her down. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered loudly. 

Sebastian grinned. “Yeah, go for it.” 

Katie leaned in close and whispered right into Sebastian’s ear. 

“I think Jammy’s the best brother ever. He is, isn’t he?” 

Jim overheard. How could he not with Katie ‘whispering’ so loudly? He couldn’t understand how she’d come to that conclusion. 

Sebastian nodded at Katie, and whispered right back, his own voice quiet and rumbling. 

“Yep. Best bloke in the world. But don’t tell him I said so.”

Katie giggled and kissed Sebastian on the cheek. She wished Sebastian could be her prince, but he belonged to Jimmy. She was glad Jim got to have him though, if she couldn’t. 

‘I won’t tell,” she declared loyally.

She finally let go of Sebastian and took a step back from him. She looked to Jim, who had backed away and was staring oddly at Seb. 

“Jammy, you won’t forget me, will you?” she asked him, blinking her big brown eyes. 

Jim didn’t answer. 

“’Course he won’t forget you,” Sebastian assured her, giving the little girl a wave as she skipped off with her care worker, chattering already about her puppy and how brilliant Jim was. 

As soon as she’d gone, Sebastian’s voice and posture changed. He returned to being the Sebastian Jim knew so well. 

“Poor kid,” he grunted, rubbing at his forehead. 

“I don’t see why,” Jim commented harshly. “She’s sane. She’s getting adopted.” 

Sebastian immediately sensed Jim’s emotion. He gave a grimace and then looked at him, trying to see if it was safe to approach him. 

“You’re sane too,” he told Jim firmly. 

Jim laughed and shook his head. “No, I’m not. I’m really not, Sebastian.” 

Sebastian gave him the look. The look Katie had spoken about so innocently. The look of pity and concern. The look his mother had given his father. 

“Oh well,” Jim suddenly sang, shrugging his shoulders dramatically and walking out of the room. Sebastian followed him, keeping up with his pace. “I suppose it’s only me now.” 

“What d’you mean?” 

“The only Moriarty,” Jim said with mocking emphasis as he walked up the stairs. 

“Katie’s a Moriarty too.” 

“She’s a Jefferson now,” Jim said firmly. “It’s only me left.” 

Seb frowned. 

“It’s my name to do what I want with,” Jim continued. 

“So you’re seriously disowning your sister?”

“She’s not my sister!” Jim hissed. “And that was for you! That wasn’t anything to do with her! Not really!” 

“By blood she is,” Sebastian argued defiantly. “She’s still your blood.” 

“Oh, and you think being my sister will do her good? Do you?” Jim asked, suddenly spinning around on the stairs and making Sebastian stop mid-step. 

“Well-“

“Let me tell you, Sebastian, I’m going to do something with my name. And anyone linked to me by blood, with that same name as me, is going to be used in order to try and bring me down.” 

Sebastian shook his head. He hated it when Jim got like this. It made him feel close to afraid. 

“This isn’t the fucking Godfather,” Sebastian murmured, so the other children wouldn’t overhear if they were around. “We live in the real world. You’re not part of the bloody Maffia.” 

Jim smirked, shot out his hand, slapped Sebastian in the face as hard as he could, and then smiled again, affectionately. 

“One day, you’ll see just how wise this decision is. You’ll be glad when she’s safely in Dublin under a new name, with a new identity. You won’t be boring me with talk of ‘blood’ ever again. I don’t need her. I don’t need any of them. Do you understand me, Sebastian? They are nothing to me. Nothing at all.” 

Sebastian’s cheek was red from the slap. As always, he didn’t flinch, didn’t complain, didn’t even look away from Jim. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They made up that night, when Jim had stopped sulking. He slipped into Sebastian’s bed with him before they had to turn the light off to show that he’d forgiven the blond. 

Sebastian didn’t hold a grudge. He never did. He forgave Jim the second Jim sought out his affection and attention again. 

“You like children,” Jim commented quietly. 

Seb didn’t answer him. 

“How can you like children? What’s wrong with you?” Jim asked, thinking hard on the question as he said it. 

Sebastian sniffed. “Just do.” 

“Well it obviously isn’t a hereditary trait,” Jim said cruelly, without thinking. Sebastian went pale and fell silent, defeated. 

It wasn’t the sort of defeat Jim could feel triumph about, though. He immediately wished his words back. 

“Do you ever want children?” Jim asked after a moment. 

“Used to think I did,” Seb admitted. 

“But not now?” 

“I don’t reckon I’m cut out for it.” 

Jim wanted to say ‘you’re wrong.’ He wanted to say ‘you’d make a perfect father.’ But those thoughts were contrary to his interests, so he kept them inside his head and nodded. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian liked hitting people, he liked to steal, he liked to smoke in secret (even though Jim had known for a long time), he swore like a sailor and kicked things when he was cross. He’d burned one man alive, helped to murder another person, cracked open a boy’s skull, and seemed excited rather than apprehensive about the idea of shooting a human. 

But he was good with children. He was kind. Jim kept on remembering the tone he’d used when talking to Katie, the softness in his blue eyes. His sadness. 

Jim supposed that people didn’t fit into neat little boxes at all. Not in real life. Not unless they wanted to. They sprawled across the lines and confused you.

‘He looks at you like Mammy used to look at Daddy’

No, Jim thought fiercely, turning in his single bed and pressing his palms over his ears to blot the words out. No, no, no, no, NO.


	69. Fifteen and Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is now fifteen years old, Sebastian seventeen.

It was spring. Jim was fifteen years old, Sebastian seventeen. 

Sebastian seemed to have completely skipped his rebellious teenage phase, but Jim was more than making up for it. 

His mood swings, a natural and inherent part of his personality, had become more intense, more sudden and drastic. One moment he was brooding, darker, silent and mutinous, muttering to himself or staring into the distance. The next he was manic and wild, prone to laughter and teasing and dancing. His voice had lowered a touch, and his Irish accent was somehow stronger, perhaps by choice. Sebastian couldn’t tell. 

Keeping Jim out of trouble was turning into a bloody full-time occupation. If Seb had thought looking after a young and mischievous Jim was tough, then trying to protect a full-blown teenage Jim was like a punch in the face from a brick wall. This was the year puberty had finally claimed him, and Christ, did it make itself known. 

And then there was the other thing. The thing Sebastian was doing his upmost to ignore. The thing that lived in his chest and his gut and liked to come out to play when Sebastian was deep in dreams. 

Fifteen year old Jim was a flirt. He was a tease, fond of experimenting with and flaunting his body, and seemed to love absolutely nothing more than playing with Sebastian’s mind. 

His body had lost every trace of childishness, apart from those dark eyes which had remained the same since Seb had first met him. He hadn’t grown broad, the way Seb had, but he had a certain elegance to him now, a confident way of moving, a sway of his hips and a quick smirk. Still slender, he managed to command the control of just about any situation he was thrust into, and Sebastian still didn’t understand quite how he did it. Paler than ever, hair nearly always gelled back neatly, concealer under his eyes to hide the proof of his sleepless, troubled nights, he could stroll into a room, snap his fingers, and Sebastian would drop whatever it was he was doing and obey. 

But Jim was dangerous now, too. He was self destructive far beyond anything Sebastian had ever witnessed before. He was reckless, often psychotic, sometimes saw or heard things that weren’t there, broke into various accents on a whim, and used more and more theatrical gestures to put his points across. 

He was becoming the pantomime villain Sebastian had witnessed all that time ago in the meeting with Carrie. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. His vocabulary was littered with almost laughable phrases that he somehow made sinister with his intonation. His clothing was becoming more extravagant, and he was becoming less afraid of flaunting his newly acquired wealth. He wore tight black trousers more often than not, with shirts of his own, no longer wearing Sebastian’s items of clothing. All except from the one red t-shirt that he wore to bed on bad nights to feel closer to Seb.

And the bad nights were bad. Really fucking bad. 

It was a double-edged sword, this business lark. More pressure, more stress, more demands, no matter how badly Jim’s mind craved it, took its toll on his brain and his body, and could leave him a shivering wreck at night. He shouted out with nightmares, woke up in cold sweats, sat on the windowsill in the moonlight and looked like he was constantly debating within himself whether to jump or not. 

Laughing Jim was great. Playful Jim was fucking hilarious. But Jim when a black mood hit was like getting caught in a storm with no means of shelter. And not only did Seb have to protect himself from Jim’s verbal and physical violence when he lashed out, sometimes blindly, but he had to protect Jim from harming himself.

It was getting harder and harder to deal with. But there was nobody to turn to. The meds weren’t working. Jim’s psychosis was worsening. And Jim himself was in a constant cycle of hyperactivity and periods of deep, sinking depression. 

Seventeen year old Sebastian went on daily runs and was currently completely and irritatingly obsessed with David Bowie who he claimed ‘got it’. Whatever ‘it’ was, Jim was yet to find out. He’d grown more cynical, almost deliciously sarcastic, and was prone to lurking in corners or at Jim’s side. His amused scoff could almost always be heard after Jim cracked a joke. Usually, when Sebastian was forced into a social situation, he’d be found leaned lazily against some wall or another, away from other people, with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Jim to call him over and instruct him. Sardonic, was a word Jim liked to use in relation to Sebastian. Sardonic and beautifully distrusting of anyone that wasn’t named Jim Moriarty.

He was something of a heartthrob among the little girls that lived at the home, although only the ones that were too young to know what the word ‘gay’ meant. They tried to follow him around and give him things, and despite everything, Sebastian always had a smile for them. He hadn’t lost his fondness for kids. It infuriated Jim, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. Children seemed oddly drawn to Sebastian, although they looked at Jim with a mixture of horror and confusion. One scowl or a cruel word could usually scatter the little ones. Seb didn’t like it when he did that, but sometimes he wanted to be alone with Seb, and the children were a nuisance. 

With almost perfect exam results under his belt, Seb was now studying at Sixth Form, taking A-levels. He was specialising in English Literature, because of his beloved Shakespeare and talent for creative writing, Geography because of his interest in the world in general and travelling, Maths, because with Jim as his tutor he knew he could get full marks, and History, because one of the main study areas was World War Two and the military strategy and politics of the Third Reich. 

Jim was pleased with him, although there was still work to be done, of course. It never did Sebastian any good to think he’d succeeded fully. He always needed something to strive for, so Jim never told him he’d achieved perfection, even when he had. 

Jim and Sebastian came as a pair. Everyone at the home knew that. You’d never get one without the other. Wherever Jim sauntered, Sebastian would slink after him. They could often be found commandeering the games room at the snooker table; Jim perched on the table with his legs crossed while Sebastian laughed darkly at some joke he’d made. Jim’s jokes were nearly always obscene and he’d been told off more than once for telling them in front of the children, not that he took much notice of that. His filthy humour was always guaranteed to make Sebastian blush and burst out with a scoff of laugher, which made it all worthwhile.

Everyone also knew that Jim was not to be touched or insulted. Sebastian, who was the sort of teenager to fight the local kids or threaten them when they teased the little girls or stole their toys or called them ‘care home freaks’, could also turn very sharply into someone fierce when Jim was mocked. 

There was a rumour going around that he had broken every single one of the fingers of one boy that called Jim a ‘camp little queer.’ Nobody knew if that was true or not. 

Well, nobody apart from Jim, Sebastian, and the unfortunate teenager who was now lacking front teeth and learning to write again. 

Jim’s third project in a row had drawn national attention, and he was excelling academically. Already he’d been offered university places, all of which he’d turned down. He was content to be the leader of the gang at his school, where his activities were far more fulfilling. Soon he’d be leaving his school, of course, because there were opportunities elsewhere, but first he wanted to cement the allegiance of his clients. Nobody would be inheriting his little empire when he left, the way he had from Paul and Carrie, who were both now gone. He’d be taking his contacts with him, along with the power and money they ensured. 

His first major award evening was coming up soon, and he came home one day with an invitation for Sebastian to read. Having no parents living, and nobody else he cared about, Jim presented it to Seb. He was the only one he needed there, anyway. He was the only one that had ever supported him fully. 

It was addressed to ‘James Moriarty.’ Seb thought the name alone would make Jim angry, but Jim was unpredictable, and so he laughed instead. 

“James Moriarty,” Jim read in a posh English accent. “And his consort, Sebastian Augustus Moran.” He pronounced ‘Moran’ in mocking tones. Instead of his emphasis being on the first syllable, like usual, he pushed at the ‘ran’ and rolled the ‘r.’ 

“Your consort?” 

“My plus-one,” Jim confirmed with a smirk. 

“Doesn’t mean I have to wear a suit, does it?” Seb asked with a grimace. 

“Of course. I want to take you out and show you off. And you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to get you into a well-cut suit.” 

Sebastian raised his eyebrows but didn’t argue. It was the way they worked, this banter. Jim would suggest something, Seb would complain or grumble, but he’d end up begrudgingly doing whatever it was Jim wanted. 

Jim laughed and sashayed over to Sebastian, reaching up to smooth the material of his t-shirt over Seb’s broad shoulders. He let his fingers linger there for a moment too long.

“Cheer up, darling. It’s only for one evening,” he said with a lilt, touching Sebastian’s cheek briefly and then withdrawing. 

“Don’t you reckon they’ll be a bit offended if you bring me?” Sebastian asked. 

“Well, I like to think of you as a diamond in the rough,” Jim began, before laughing at Sebastian’s offended face. “What? You think they’ve never had men that attend these events together? Sebastian, you obviously know nothing about upper-class London.” 

“Full of queers?” 

“Absolutely choc-a-block,” Jim agreed cheerfully. He took off his school blazer and hung it up. 

“So, you’ll be my date,” Jim commented faux-innocently as he began to change out of his clothes. “In a purely technical sense, of course.” 

Sebastian had to make an effort to tear his eyes away from Jim as he started to shed his clothes. He swiftly diverted to the window and lit himself a cigarette, leaning out. It was his one comfort in life, to have a cigarette in hand and feel the spring air against his face. He breathed in the smoke and felt it rush straight to his lungs. He was addicted already, but it wasn’t the most dangerous thing he did by any means, so he wasn’t about to try and pack it in. 

Since meeting Carrie that first time at Jim’s school, Sebastian had made no direct contact with the rest of Jim’s group, although occasionally Jim took him out on ‘errands’ which usually meant collecting briefcases or boxes from dodgy-looking individuals in some dark London backstreet. Sebastian still refused to ask what exactly was going on. He just stuck by Jim’s side, armed with a knife and a handgun, ready to kill any person that might pose a threat to his best mate. So far it hadn’t come to that, though, which was probably for the best. 

“Don’t you peek now,” Jim drawled, even though he knew that Sebastian was too noble to do that. It was good to keep him on his toes, though, good to rile him up a bit. 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he heard Sebastian grunt in response. Jim smirked. 

Jim had noticed, of course. He always noticed. Sebastian’s eyes, once so brotherly and protective, so full of a familial sense of duty, were now full of a new brand of combined desire and restraint. He was fighting himself on a daily basis, which Jim found delicious. 

It had been a long and infuriating process, that change in Sebastian’s gaze. Somehow it all seemed to have started on Jim’s fifteenth birthday, when he’d declared, rather unhappily, that he was getting spots and needed to shave, since Jim loathed seeing hair on his body on anywhere that wasn’t his head. Sebastian hadn’t started shaving until he was sixteen, which seemed to have resonated somewhere in Sebastian’s wonderfully loyal brain. From then on, it had spiraled and spiraled until on some days, Jim would catch Sebastian watching him out of the corner of his eye. Seb’s expression was always one of mingled dawning realisation, horror, adoration, and confusion. His lips were always parted, his brow furrowed. And all Jim had to do was turn to look at him to wipe the look away from his face as though it had never existed. 

Jim had tried his very best to let Sebastian know that the pair of them weren’t brothers, the way they had apparently seemed inside Sebastian’s head. He casually brought up the Holmes brothers, that seemed constantly on the verge of murdering each other. He brought up his own non-existent relationship with Katie. He often emphasised their ‘friendship’ and made as many innuendos as he possibly could to remind Sebastian that he was sixteen next year and no longer a child. 

But despite all this, Sebastian was struggling to comprehend this new mix of emotions and sensations he was experiencing upon glancing at Jim. Poor darling was fighting it like a lovely brave boy, but it was a losing battle. Jim only needed to wink at Sebastian from across the kitchen table to know that. 

“Will there be free booze?” Sebastian asked. 

Jim tutted and reclined leisurely back on his bed, now dressed in comfortable pyjamas. Sebastian heard the bed creak and turned away from the window. 

“You’re not to get drunk,” Jim declared strictly, waving his wrist at Sebastian. “Although yes, there’ll be champagne. I expect you’ll need to have a little bit so you don’t end up thumping the other guests.” 

“Posh bastards?” 

“Mostly,” Jim agreed. “Do you think you can stand it?” 

Sebastian sniffed nonchalantly. “I’m hardly going to miss your award do just because of a few posh pricks. You’ve been working on this for ages.” 

“Atta boy,” Jim agreed with a smile. He closed his eyes and went still, hands folded atop his stomach. 

“So,” Sebastian asked, taking another long drag of his cigarette and then tapping it out of the window. “This one’s definite? You’re not nominated? You’ve got it?”

“It’s mine,” Jim confirmed with a content sigh. “Award for excellence in the mathematical field. Quite a bit of money attached, too.” 

Seb finished with his cigarette and put it in the ashtray on the windowsill. He wasn’t supposed to be smoking indoors, but they’d taken the batteries out of the smoke alarm, and Jim allowed it so long as he held the cigarette outside. The smell of smoke actually quite soothed Jim. It reminded him of Sebastian, surrounded him. It was something he could inhale, a familiar scent that now screamed of safety and home. 

“Well, congratulations,” Sebastian said sincerely. And he did sound proud. He never got jealous of Jim’s achievements, not once. “It’s about fucking time they gave you some recognition.” 

“Hm? Yes,” Jim muttered vaguely. 

It was infuriating when he did that. Clearly he wanted to be asked a further question. Sebastian sighed and took the bait. 

“I’m sensing some info you’re holding back.” 

“I could have had the other recognition awards too,” Jim informed Sebastian, with his eyes still closed. He looked incredibly pleased with himself. “But I thought it might make my name a little too big. This one is the one I want. But after this, I’ll have to fizzle out a bit. Just for a while. It wouldn’t be a good idea to become too in demand, now, would it?” 

“Suppose not,” Seb agreed. 

Jim’s planned career of underground crime was something that required a certain amount of anonymity, which Jim was finding a difficult balance to strike. On the one hand, he wanted to be held up above the others, praised as beyond them in terms of mental capability, to have his brilliance recognised for what it was. He needed an audience, that much was true. 

But if he wanted real wealth and power that stretched beyond his days in education, and to continue to have fun without any nasty consequences, he was going to have to slip beneath the surface for a while. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, but it still seemed a shame, he thought. 

“How’s Dawn?” Jim asked. 

Sebastian no longer questioned Jim about how he could tell a letter had come. He’d grown used to him simply knowing things. 

“Not bad. Doing voluntary work at the moment, trying to teach some of the kids English. They’re still in New Delhi. She sends her love.” 

Jim hummed. “Tell her ‘hello’ from me.” 

“Tell her yourself,” Sebastian said mildly. “You can write just as well as I can.” 

“I don’t have time to write to Dawn, ‘Bastian, darling,” Jim sighed, rolling onto his side and raising an eyebrow at Seb. “I have enough on my plate as it is. Now be a good boy and pass on my message.” 

Sebastian sniffed and nodded. “Yeah, sure thing,” he agreed. Sebastian was in the habit of writing massive, fat, monthly letters to Dawn. He enjoyed the chance to tell someone about what was happening with him and Jim, because nobody else in the world gave two shits about them. 

“So, when’s this ceremony?” Seb asked when Jim went silent. He was still looking pleased with himself. Too damn pleased for anyone’s good. 

“In a month,” Jim told him, smirking. “I’m thinking I’m going to dress you up in black tie. You’re going to have your hair cut as well.” 

Sebastian looked a little worried about that. 

“My hair’s fine,” he insisted. 

“It’s a little too long at the back, actually,” Jim informed Sebastian knowingly. “Do you want to look the most handsome you’ve ever looked in your life, or don’t you?” 

“Not fussed, to be honest,” Sebastian said with a shrug. 

Jim chuckled. 

“Well, I suppose the best that can be said is that you’re not vain,” he said. “But it matters to me, so you’ll do as I say. You’re going to dazzle them all, sweetheart.” 

Sebastian frowned and plonked himself gracelessly down on his own bed. He reached for one of his history textbooks and began to immerse himself in the politics of World War Two. 

Jim was staring at him. He could feel it. 

“What?” Seb asked. 

“You’re so big,” Jim said sweetly. 

Sebastian took a moment, composed his expression, then looked at Jim from over the top of his book. He raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t hide his blushing ear. The meaning could have been completely innocent. But that expression said otherwise…

“Cheers?” 

Jim smirked and closed his eyes.

Perturbed now, Sebastian forced himself to start reading again. It took him seven goes to find his sentence.


	70. The Award Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim takes Sebastian to his award evening.

Sebastian hadn’t expected the process of finding a suit to take so long. Jim took him to four London tailors, insisting that Sebastian would wear something expensive and perfectly fitted. The ones in the cheaper shops would make no allowances for Seb’s broad frame and long arms and legs, Jim said. He seemed to know what he was talking about, so Sebastian let him get on with it. 

Jim dragged him around the West End of London, chattering on and on about designer labels and fabrics and other things Sebastian didn’t understand or particularly want to. Fashion had never agreed with Seb. What he needed was something to give him ease of movement, something he could run in. He wasn’t fussed about any of the trimmings. A hoodie and jeans had done him just fine for years and he didn’t see any need to change that. 

But Jim had other ideas, and what Jim wanted, Sebastian usually made happen. 

Jim was determined Seb should wear black, and something simple yet striking. Over and over again Sebastian was measured, poked and prodded, various camp men or well-spoken women making comments about his physique as though he wasn’t there. Talking about his bone structure, his muscular arms but lean body, things that were totally irrelevant like his blue eyes and bitten nails. 

Usually Jim sat back leisurely in a chair near the fitting rooms, making small-talk with the shop workers. He managed to make himself seem more friendly than usual, and he smiled more than Seb was used to. This was his trustworthy and charming persona, then, Seb thought as he stripped in the booth and pulled on one of the suits Jim had picked out for him.

“Don’t hold your arms so awkwardly,” Jim commanded as Sebastian emerged from behind the curtain. 

He obediently tried to relax them. To him, every suit he’d tried on looked the same. 

The woman standing beside Jim made a noise of content, clearly she’d seen something Seb hadn’t. 

“And how does it feel?” Jim asked him. 

“Er… bit stiff,” Sebastian answered, feeling suddenly out of his depth as the woman and Jim shared a smile of knowing. 

“Yes,” Jim praised. “We’ll go for this style, although he’ll need it fixed at the shoulders and taken in at the waist.” 

“Good choice,” the woman commented, already making notes on her tiny notepad. “He already has the right look for it, and you don’t want to go overboard with a man like him. Emphasise the face if you’ve got it, I say.”

“I quite agree,” Jim said with a smirk at Sebastian. Seb blushed, then looked sulky. He felt like a fucking kid playing dress up. The sooner he could get out of the suit and back into his jeans, the better.

The price was enough to make Sebastian poke his head out of the changing room and gawp at Jim. But Jim didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. 

“You have to pay for quality,” he muttered to Seb. “And it’s not like I don’t have the money. Now you pop back in there and hurry up. We have to find you a tie.” 

Tie shopping was even more boring than suit shipping, if that was possible. Jim was fascinated with the various designer styles, but Sebastian scuffed his trainers on the shop carpets, agitating the shop workers in the process, and kept on looking at his watch. This wasn’t his place. He didn’t feel comfortable among all these pretentious bastards. Jim was like a fucking chameleon. There wasn’t a place on Earth he couldn’t adapt to. But Sebastian wasn’t an actor, and he couldn’t get past his resentment of the upper classes. Jim seemed to want to become one of them, to destroy them from the inside. To play the game and then take it from their hands. It seemed too close to ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ for Sebastian’s liking. No matter what happened in his future, how much cash he earned, he’d never be one of them. He was proud of his roots. He was a Londoner. He’d been ditched in a care home and made his own way. It wasn’t handed to him on a plate like the rich bastards that flocked around the West End like they were better than everyone else. 

After an hour spent traipsing around London, he ended up with a plain black silk tie after all. The sort they could have picked out in five minutes flat. 

“You’re going to look gorgeous,” Jim praised Sebastian on the bus home. “But you’re not to frown when you wear it.” 

“Hate suits,” Sebastian murmured mutinously, looking out of the window. 

“Get used to them,” Jim said simply. “You’ll be wearing them a lot more in future. And it seems a shame to rob the world of the sight of you in black tie.” 

That made the corner of Sebastian’s lip curl up against his will. Jim spotted it and gave Seb a playful nudge. 

“So I look good in it?” he asked gruffly. He was genuinely questioning it, bless him, like he couldn’t understand. 

“Once it’s been fitted properly? You’ll look delicious,” Jim agreed. Sebastian blushed crimson and nodded his head.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

On the evening of the award ceremony, a taxi came to pick the boys up. Sebastian was already downstairs, anxious that the taxi would leave without them if Jim was late. He was still getting ready in the bedroom and had banished Sebastian because apparently he needed his space and Seb was irritating him by fidgeting and looking nervous. 

Seb glanced at himself in the hall mirror and tried to understand that the man staring back was him. He was handsome in a way, he supposed. Just like Jim said. He had a jawline like his Father, just like the photograph he still kept. He was under no illusion that he was gorgeous or whatever else Jim said to tease him, but he was passable, and he could have looked a lot worse.

“Jim! Taxi’s here!” Sebastian shouted up the stairs as he heard a car stop outside.

Several of the little girls had assembled in the hall to watch Jim and Sebastian leave. They peered at Sebastian and giggled and whispered. Seb was too nervous to even acknowledge them. For a seventeen year old, he was seriously intimidated by large gatherings of people. His experiences at school had led him to be distrustful and deeply suspicious of crowds and strangers. Especially posh people. In his experience, posh people looked at him like he was shit on the soles of their shoes. 

“I know, I know,” Jim drawled as he appeared at the top of the stairs. 

Sebastian’s jaw dropped. 

“Eyes front, soldier,” Jim teased, smirking from ear to ear as he strolled confidently down the stairs and gestured at the front door. 

“You look… good,” Sebastian mumbled. 

“Just good?” 

“Brilliant.” 

And he did. His suit was black as well, but it had been brought in more tightly at the waist than Sebastian’s, a flattering cut against Jim’s slender body. A rounded collar emphasised his pale neck. His tie was black, covered in what looked like embroidered skulls. His cufflinks matched, two gleaming skulls also, although there was a touch of red there, glinting in the empty eye sockets. Jim had recently plucked his eyebrows and they were as dark and dangerous as ever. His eyes were large and currently scanning Sebastian’s face and body with deep approval. Seb thought he could detect a trace of concealer under Jim’s eyes and mascara on his lashes, but he couldn’t be sure. 

“Better,” Jim praised.

Because Sebastian was still watching him like an idiot, Jim grabbed him by the arm and marched him out of the front door towards the taxi.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They arrived at Jim’s school, only today it was lit up with fairy lights, classical music playing somewhere in the distance. There were waiters and waitresses holding trays of champagne and seafood dotted around, and posh cars pulling up outside the grounds. Sebastian tried to take it all in his stride, but it was a different world to the one he was used to.

Trying not to seem too out of his depth, he stuck close to Jim’s side and followed him through the entrance hall. They gave their names to the woman at the desk and she smiled at them briefly before allowing them to enter the main hall. 

“How much did this thing cost again?” Sebastian asked, seeing what he thought was an ice sculpture of a swan on a table in the corner, along with several flower displays. 

“More than most people’s lives are worth,” Jim answered as he dragged Sebastian up to a waiter who seemed to be holding a tray of chocolate strawberries. He took as many as he could carry, and Sebastian took a couple as well, if only so he could give them to Jim when he’d finished off his five. 

Jim talked Sebastian through some of the more major guests, making insulting comments about them, filling Seb in on the gossip. There were the leaders of each field from many of the more prestigious universities, a few people from the government that Sebastian scowled at, and even a couple of minor celebrities. Sebastian didn’t have a clue who they were, and Jim told him it was just as well. 

“Your thoughts?” Jim asked as he finished his last chocolate strawberry and went for Sebastian’s.

“About this place?” 

Jim nodded. 

“Seems a bit… unnecessary.” 

Jim laughed and patted Sebastian on the arm. Seb knew he was acting up for the people watching. He was showing off, trying to make it clear that Seb was his, probably for the benefit of the girls that seemed to be creeping inconspicuously closer with every passing moment. 

“Oh, it is,” Jim agreed. “It’s a waste of money and resources. But nobody’s here for a good time.” 

“No?” 

Jim rolled his eyes at Sebastian. 

“If I wanted a good time, darling, I’d have persuaded you to take me to see another show. No, this is business.” 

Sebastian sniffed. He supposed that made sense. It made him glad, actually. Because it was a relief to know that this wasn’t Jim’s idea of a good time either. 

“Well, I’d better go. We’re supposed to be on the stage. Don’t let that waiter give out all the strawberries, will you?” 

Sebastian didn’t know how the hell he was going to stop him from doing his job, but there were more pressing matters on his mind. 

“What? You’re leaving me?” he asked, suddenly feeling his heart race. 

“Don’t look so terrified. I’ll be gone for about ten minutes before the presentation,” Jim responded with a careless air to him, already starting to stroll off. 

“I dunno what to do,” Seb said awkwardly. He wanted nothing more than to follow Jim. 

“Talk to people, or if you don’t want to do that, keep your head down and drink champagne,” Jim advised. He looked right into Sebastian’s eyes and held his gaze for a moment. “I’ll be back soon, ‘Bastian, okay?” 

Seb nodded his head. He realised he was being stupid, but these people may as well have been an alien civilization. They seemed to laugh in groups, and all at once, like seagulls, throwing their heads back insincerely. Their eyes were judgmental, and already he was getting stared at. Fuck, he hated people watching him. 

Keen to avoid any conversation, Seb chose a seat at the back of the hall, picked up a programme and pretended to read.

He was approached two minutes later by a gaggle of guests. At the head were a couple; a large man who seemed to be too fat for his suit, and a skinny woman with a wrinkly neck but a taut face. Her thin neck was weighed down with a jeweled necklace, and she held a champagne flute in her left hand. 

“What a handsome young man,” the woman crowed, turning to the group. They all gave that same false laugh. Sebastian forced a smile in return and tried not to fidget. 

“And who are you here with? Your parents? Are you getting an award?” 

“Er, I don’t go here,” Sebastian mumbled. “I’m a guest.” 

The atmosphere of the group changed the moment they heard his voice. His rough accent stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the upper class Londoners. Several women recoiled, but the lady that had first spoken masked her displeasure with a pitying smile. 

“And which lucky lady are you here with?” she asked. She was patronising him now, just because of his London accent. 

“Bloke actually,” Sebastian said, sitting up straighter. “My mate, Jim.”

The group frowned at each other. 

“Oh! Of course, you mean young James!” another woman piped up.

There was another look exchanged. One of obvious distaste, knowing, and uncertainty. 

“Yeah, James,” Sebastian agreed gruffly.

“Funny one, is James,” the large man declared, sounding like someone had stuck a peg on his nose. “Rather unusual. Not to say unlikable, exactly, but… somewhat flamboyant.” 

There was a murmur of agreement. 

“A liking for clothes, rather… feminine,” a woman said knowingly, nodding her head. They were all looking at Sebastian differently now, like he was a different species. 

“Well, it is a shame,” the original lady said, fixing her necklace and looking even more pitying. “You’re such a handsome boy. I’m sure you’d like to meet my daughter…” 

“I wouldn’t, actually,” Sebastian grunted, blue eyes narrowing in an expression reminiscent of Jim. “I’d prefer your son, if you’ve got one. But to be honest, I’m alright as I am.” 

The group fluttered, indignant and ruffled. 

“I see,” the woman said. There was no warmth to her anymore. 

“Oh yeah? And what do you see?” Sebastian demanded, starting to flare up. Insults aimed at him, he could take, but the look that had been exchanged when they’d spoken of Jim was enough to make Sebastian’s blood boil.

At that moment, a speaker stepped out onto the stage and cleared his throat. The group left Sebastian well alone, muttering and murmuring and sending him ugly looks as they bustled to the best seats. 

Stupid, ignorant bastards, Sebastian thought to himself. He made sure to keep his back straight and his chin up, just to show he didn’t give two shits what they thought of him. 

As the seats filled around him, Sebastian saw the students go to sit on the main stage. Jim was seated in the front row, looking almost comically bored by the man that was introducing the evening. He didn’t once glance at Sebastian as Mr Meariweather droned on and on, but somehow Sebastian knew that the exaggerated eyebrow raise and yawn were for his benefit. It left him grinning like an idiot and trying to fight it away to prevent even more odd looks than he was already getting. The group that had bothered him were clearly spreading whispers around the hall, because every so often people turned in their chairs and glanced at him. He didn’t know if it was because he was a new face, because he was gay, because of his rough London accent, or because he was here with Jim. It could have been all of those things, he supposed. 

One by one the students collected their awards. It was fairly dull, to be honest, but Sebastian forced himself to pay attention in case he missed Jim’s. 

Jim was by far the best looking of all the students, he thought to himself. Miles ahead, in Seb’s opinion. He had one of those faces you couldn’t help but stare at… or was that just Sebastian?

When Jim’s name was finally read out, his award described, Sebastian grinned proudly, settling back confidently in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching Jim with a feeling of utter elation starting from his sternum and moving outwards. 

Jim sauntered up to Mr Meariweather, shook the man’s hand, gave a charming smile for his photograph, and then strolled off the stage with a satisfied air as the audience clapped. Nobody clapped more loudly than Sebastian, who also stood, alone and towering above everyone else. That gained him a few more odd looks, but Jim beamed and took the path right through the snobs on his way back to Sebastian. 

He took the seat next to Seb and handed him his award. The woman with the necklace turned in her seat and glared over. Before Sebastian had the chance to stick his middle finger up at her, Jim had kissed him on the cheek, quick as a flash. That worked even better as a deterrent. 

“I hope I didn’t spy you being rude to the esteemed guests earlier while I was on the stage,” Jim said quietly. He seemed hugely amused by something. 

Seb looked indignant but Jim laughed. 

“What did you say to them?” he asked eagerly. 

“Nothing. They were just pissing me off so I told them where to stick it.”

Jim smirked. 

“Politely,” Seb added. Because he’d made an effort not to swear or be properly rude. 

Sebastian still looked a bit uncomfortable, so Jim placed a hand on his knee and gave it a pat. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, the woman with the baggy neck is having an affair with a much younger man, who’s actually using her for money, and her husband has a heart condition he doesn’t know about yet. He should be dead within the year.”

That made Sebastian grin cruelly and Jim chuckled again as they settled to watch the rest of the awards.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

After the awards there was more socialising. Jim did most of the talking, and Sebastian stuck close to his side as he was introduced to person after boring person.

Eventually, Jim decided to rush off and seek out one of the boys from his group. There had been a problem with a shipment from Austria, apparently, and he needed to find out the exact details. 

So once again Sebastian was left alone in the sea of unfriendly faces. 

He was approached almost instantly by a flamboyant couple, one clad in a light blue suit with a purple tie, the other dressed in black, although he was wearing a top hat, held a cane, and had a moustache that curled at the sides, like he’d stepped right out of a Dickens novel.

“So brave to be out there at your age,” the colourful man said in a strong French accent. “Isn’t that right, George?” 

“Absolutely,” the posh, skinny man with the moustache answered.

Sebastian just stared.

“You and young James make a handsome couple,” the French man continued. “So rare to see such an attractive pair, especially at an event like this. Don’t you think so, George?” 

“Why yes,” George agreed. 

Sebastian forced himself not to swear. For people from the upper classes, nobody Seb had met so far had any manners. They all just barrelled in without a second thought for the person they were talking at. 

“We’re not actually together,” Sebastian mumbled, colour rushing to his cheeks. “We’re just mates.” 

“Oh, say no more, say no more,” Philippe said. He fiddled with the flower in his buttonhole and then shot Sebastian a dazzling smile. He’d had work done, for sure, Seb thought, because his teeth were shockingly white and even, and his skin was overly tanned, verging on orange. Not to mention that there were no wrinkles on his forehead whatsoever. “Such a sweet boy,” Philippe continued. “I have to say, if I were ten years younger…” 

“Twenty,” quipped George, draping his arm around his husband. Seb could see they were properly together because of the rings on their fingers. 

Sebastian shuffled from foot to foot and then swigged his champagne, finishing it off. 

“And where did James find you, then?” Philippe asked. He looked at Sebastian like he was some fucking stray dog Jim had taken in, trained, and given a home. 

“Er… actually, we’ve known each other for years,” Seb forced himself to say. 

He looked around desperately for Jim, and like his prayers had been answered, Jim sauntered out of the crowd looking pleased with himself. It was good news on the shipment from Austria front, then. 

“And here’s the lucky boy,” Philippe said in over-exaggerated tones. He couldn’t have been more stereotypically gay if he tried, Seb thought. “James Moriarty, wasn’t it?” 

Sebastian had expected Jim to tell them to leave them alone, but instead he smiled at them and stood close to Sebastian. 

“Absolutely. James Moriarty, although I prefer Jim,” he announced. “Lovely suit, Philippe.” 

“Such a charmer! Didn’t I say so, George? Such a lovely couple.” 

“You did, Philippe.” 

“We’re not a couple,” Sebastian grunted out, teeth gritted. 

But nobody seemed to listen to him. Jim chatted lightly to the pair of men and Sebastian stood silently at his side, wishing himself away from the situation. The more they talked, the more Seb felt like an outsider. 

Jim could play the same game Philippe and George could. He flattered them on their clothes and achievements, acted pleasantly surprised by their attention, and even laughed at their jokes. He didn’t even snap when Philippe’s hands wandered, although Seb did. He bared his teeth, mindful of what had happened with Stanley. Philippe didn’t try anything again after that. 

Sebastian kept his eyes on his shoes and tried not to loosen his tie. This was for Jim, so he wasn’t going to punch Philippe in the face when he made lewd comments about him. He wasn’t going to swear and let Jim down. He was going to stand his ground, focus on Jim’s voice, and get himself some more champagne as soon as possible.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“What the fuck?” Sebastian demanded the moment the two men had pranced off to bother someone else. 

“Relax, darling,” Jim drawled quietly. “I might need them.” 

“For what?” 

“They’re in the cosmetics industry,” Jim informed Sebastian. “Well, Philippe is, and then George has a small fortune in scientific equipment.” 

“Told them we weren’t bloody together,” Sebastian grumbled. “Wouldn’t listen to me.” 

Jim rolled his eyes to the heavens and smiled. “Sebastian, they don’t listen to anyone. No-one here does. It’s the largest gathering of actors you’ll ever see. But networking is important, and some of these people are valuable to me.” 

“So you flatter them, enlarge their already massive egos, and they give you what you want?” 

“Exactly,” Jim agreed, ignoring the tone of disgust in Sebastian’s voice. “Cheer up, sweetheart. You’re too old to still believe that working hard is what puts you on the top of the pile.” 

“No, I do get it,” Sebastian murmured. “I get all this. I just don’t like it. You should have seen that woman earlier, Jim. Right nasty cow. Had it in for you, and me by extension.” 

“She can join the club then,” Jim remarked carelessly. “I’m not very popular, not that it matters. Popular gets you nothing.” 

“Says the boy just sweet-talking those old pevs.” 

“Old pervs with resources I might like to use,” Jim reminded him. “This is business. It’s a harsh world, Sebastian. Sometimes we put our personal feelings aside in order to gain a profit.” 

“Still don’t like it.” 

“That’s because you’re noble,” Jim said quietly. “You like a fair fight when you can get it. But that isn’t how my world works. You’ll have to get used to it if you want me to keep you around.” 

Sebastian bit back his argument and nodded his head. Jim knew best, even if the idea made Sebastian uncomfortable.  


He wasn’t sure he liked this version of Jim. He didn’t seem real. Sebastian still adored him, wanted to be near him, but this wasn’t the Jim Moriarty he classed as his closest friend. This was a different person. A businessman, ruthless and disturbingly cold. 

“Come on. Let’s get you outdoors,” Jim announced finally, patting Seb on the arm, anticipating a slight sulk coming on. “You’ll love the grounds. You never got to see them properly before.” 

The evening was fairly pleasant, guests milled around in small groups although the main grounds were mostly empty. Jim took hold of Sebastian’s hand and led him off around one of the old stone buildings, through a walkway made of curved trees, shady and almost sinister, and down another brick path. 

Sebastian thought it was beautiful, but then he’d always liked nature. Jim pulled him impatiently onwards, not letting Seb pause to look at the statues and the plants. 

“Where are we going?” Seb asked. 

“Somewhere people won’t stare at you,” Jim told him firmly. “I know you hate it.” 

The atmosphere seemed to change the further away Jim led him from the main hall. There was a stillness to the air, an uneasy quality. If Seb had been superstitious, he would have said there was some sort of magic at work in this part of the old school. As it was, he brushed off the way his hairs stood on end and kept walking. 

“Bit spooky, this place,” Sebastian commented as Jim dragged him around another building. They ended up in an empty courtyard, all ancient brickwork and creeping vines. Sebastian felt as though he’d gone back in time. 

“Haunted apparently,” Jim told Sebastian with a smirk. “You’re not scared, are you?” 

Clearly Jim wasn’t, so Seb wasn’t either. 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Fuck off,” he said affectionately. He felt his body relax because his Jim was back. He’d dropped his socialising face the moment they’d stepped into the grounds. They were alone. Back to normal. There was nobody around to interfere. 

Jim pulled Sebastian right into the centre of the courtyard and kept hold of his hand. In the distance, classical music could be heard playing, people laughing, although it was eerily muted, like it was playing through water. 

“I’ll be leaving here soon,” he told Seb as he peered up at the night sky. “I’m outgrowing it.” 

“University, then?” Seb asked, also looking up. The moon was out, bright and clear and the stars were visible. Jim probably looked at them and saw science, Seb mused. When he looked at them, he had the urge to get closer, to explore, to lay on his back and stare up and think. 

“They have offered,” Jim admitted. “I’ve turned down all my places, though. I don’t want to leave just yet.” 

“So what are you waiting for?” 

Jim leaned heavily against Sebastian, resting his cheek comfortably against Seb’s arm. “First, I need to carry over my contacts, keep them sweet, build up some trust. I want to do a little more investigation into the London criminal circles. I want to keep my product broad, but I understand I’ll need a little more specialist knowledge.” 

“And what’s your product?” 

Jim lifted his head to look up at Sebastian. 

“Me,” he said. “My brain. My services.” 

Sebastian nodded. “So you’ll be some sort of advisor?” 

“Consultant,” Jim agreed. “I need to keep my brain alive. I don’t think I’d be able to keep breathing if I got bored. I might just drop out of existence.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Sebastian said. 

“I would,” Jim said quietly. “You don’t understand, Sebby. You never have done. I need to feed my brain like you need to feed your lovely flat stomach.” He punctuated that comment by patting Sebastian’s abdomen. 

Sebastian felt a shiver run through his body. 

“You need to run around and hit things and be all macho and athletic when you’re cross, correct?” Jim continued. 

“Yeah.” 

“And if someone taped your arms to your sides and your legs together when you got angry, how would you feel?” 

Sebastian thought about it. “Fucking awful.” 

“Which is how I feel all the time my brain has nothing to think about. And only big things count. Soon I’ll need more and more and more until there’s nothing left to figure out, and then...pop! I disappear.” 

“Stop saying that,” Seb said instantly, pulling away from Jim slightly. Jim yanked him back by his hand. 

“I don’t say it to scare you,” Jim said sincerely. “It’s the truth. When I’m finished playing, I’ll have to disappear. I’m warning you. Just so you know. Because you value trust and loyalty, Sebastian.” 

Jim was trying to be kind and considerate, Seb knew, but all he could feel was a nauseous twist in his gut. 

“And by disappear you mean…?”

“Die,” Jim confirmed shortly. “I’ll have to end it.” 

Sebastian went silent. Jim didn’t look at his face. He didn’t need to. He knew the expression that he’d see there, pained and loyal and utterly helpless. It was the face of a person being tortured, too proud to cry out. 

“When?” Sebastian asked through gritted teeth, trying to keep his tone even.

“It could be in years. It could be tomorrow,” Jim explained with a shrug. “I don’t know, darling. I just don’t.” 

“Would you do it without telling me?” Sebastian asked. 

Jim pondered that for a long moment. 

“If you’d rather know, I could promise to warn you,” Jim finally said, his voice soft. “I can’t say I’ll give you much time, but I can make sure you don’t have any nasty surprises.” 

“Don’t want you to die,” Sebastian grunted out. His body had gone completely stiff with emotion as he tried desperately to blot it out. 

“All that lives must die,” Jim recited. “Passing through nature to eternity.” 

It was from Hamlet. Sebastian had been reading it a lot around Jim recently, whenever he fell into his depressive moods. 

“If you die, I’ll…”

“Are you blackmailing me, sweetheart?” Jim chuckled. 

“Jim-“ 

“Are you going to piss on my grave? Will you expose my wickedness and criminal activity to the world? Sully my good name? Hm?” 

“I’ll follow you,” Sebastian finished. 

Jim blinked slowly. He looked up at Sebastian, confused and completely thrown off balance. His pink lips had parted in wonder. 

Sebastian looked back at him with grim determination. He really meant it, Jim realised. 

Jim wrapped his arms around Sebastian and held him close, silent in the dark courtyard, breathing in the smell of his aftershave. He clamped his eyes shut and swayed slightly as he hugged Sebastian. If he could, he would have crawled into his skin, merged them into one being. 

“Please don’t die,” Sebastian mumbled into Jim’s hair, stroking his back with his right hand and clutching at him with his left. 

“Because you don’t want to?” Jim questioned in a whisper. 

“’Cause I know there’s nothing after,” was all Sebastian said.


	71. A Business Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has a business proposition for Sebastian and his mental health is getting steadily worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes self harm and mental illness.

“You need a hobby,” Jim declared one night as he and Sebastian walked down to the chip shop together. Jim had refused to eat the vegetable curry offered that evening, even though Sebastian liked the sound of it, so they’d sneaked out the back way to find their own dinner. 

“I’m already snowed under with school stuff,” Seb protested, taking out his lighter and lighting a cigarette as they walked. 

“No. You need a hobby. It isn’t optional. This is for your own good. Consider it an extra-curricular activity.”

“And said extra-curricular activity is?”

“Oh, this and that,” Jim said airily, frowning at some dog mess on the street before stepping over it. 

“Yeah, very helpful,” Seb responded with the cigarette between his lips. 

“You have a talent.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

Seb raised an eyebrow at Jim as he exhaled a mouthful of smoke. 

“Truth be told, Sebastian, darling, you have quite a few talents. I only want to keep them nice and sharp.”

The only talents of his Jim was interested in were the ones that he could use to aid him in his quest for world domination. Which meant this was a business proposition. 

“You want me involved in your stuff?” 

“Occasionally, yes,” Jim admitted. “Only for the special cases. There’d be no contract involved-“ 

Seb scoffed. He wasn’t in one of his best moods today, having been up the previous night with Jim, who’d been muttering to himself and scrawling out formulas into the early hours of the morning. He’d refused to go to bed and threatened to stab Sebastian if he kept on interfering. Eventually, Jim had fallen asleep at the desk and Seb had carried him back to his bed at four in the morning. 

“What?” Jim demanded. 

“You do contracts? Jim, the whole thing is fucking illegal. Who are you going to go crying to if they breach the terms?” 

Jim would have snapped then, but Sebastian’s observation was intelligent enough to prevent an outburst. 

“You know, Sebastian. If you weren’t so astute, I’d be angry with you for contradicting me.”

Sebastian gave him a flat look. He didn’t buy into Jim the businessman at all. When they were together, in private, he always spoke his mind.

“It’s just a formality,” Jim explained with a pout. “It’s the gesture that counts. But let’s be serious, shall we? This could work as a business arrangement.” 

Sebastian stopped walking and leaned back against the fence nearest to them, taking a drag of his cigarette. Behind the fence a dog barked loudly and batted at the wood. Seb ignored it. 

“Go on.” 

Seb’s arms were crossed now, brow furrowed with wary concentration. He was ever so wise, Jim thought. Trusting and loyal, but absolutely not a fool. A wonderful combination. Not that he’d ever tell Sebastian that. 

“Sometimes I might want a good shot.”

“I already do all that,” Seb interjected. “When you drag me out in the middle of the night and we end up in fucking alleys swapping boxes with random shady blokes. I have a gun on me then.” 

“No,” Jim corrected him. “In those instances you’re just acting as a bodyguard of sorts. You don’t have any real responsibility. And I want company sometimes, Sebastian.”  


Seb’s lips curled into a crooked smile. 

“You get my company for free.” 

“Company when meeting clients.” 

Sebastian looked unconvinced. 

“Right.” 

“I want you to shoot people for me. Not often. Not if you don’t want to. But I mean it for real this time. The gun won’t be a prop to stop them from taking advantage. I’ll need you to actually pull the trigger on them.” 

“And if I get caught?” Sebastian asked. 

“You won’t.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

Jim rolled his eyes and snatched Sebastian’s cigarette right out of his hand. Seb grunted his displeasure, but that didn’t stop Jim dropping it on the pavement and stamping it out with his shoe. 

“Sebastian, do you think I’d let you get arrested?” 

“If you were feeling particularly pissed off with me, yeah,” Sebastian muttered, already reaching into his pocket for another cigarette. 

“Sebastian.” 

“No,” Seb conceded, pausing and looking up at Jim. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Jim nodded his head, content with that. 

“No qualms about shooting a person dead?”

“If we’re talking no consequences, then no. None.” 

Jim beamed. That was exactly the right response. Under Jim’s careful tutelage and supervision, Sebastian was learning to turn his strong ability to empathise with people on and off like a tap. If they were an enemy, if Jim could get that clearly enough into Sebastian’s head, Seb could do unspeakable things to them without a shred of guilt. 

He’d first witnessed it after Stanley. To this day Sebastian didn’t regret burning the man alive. And all because he’d thought of himself as the ‘good guy’ in that situation. Sebastian liked to imagine himself a hero, and Jim knew exactly how to make that work to his advantage. 

If a situation was presented to Sebastian in the right way, if he was given the chance to be Jim’s saviour, his knight in shining armour, his protector, then he’d do almost anything in order to prove his loyalty and adoration. 

Sebastian’s brain worked on a strictly ‘us or them’ basis. All Jim needed to do was construct and appropriate ‘enemy’ and Seb was his to command. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

A month later, Jim decided to rent himself a thinking space. It was a small office near to the home, somewhere he could retreat to when he needed to work and the little children were irritating him. Work had taken over his brain recently to the extent that ne neglected to sleep or eat. It was a constant source of concern for Seb. 

“Step into my office,” Jim drawled, opening the door to reveal a small-ish grey room full of filing cabinets and a dark brown desk in the corner. There was one window, although the view was poor, and only looked out onto the back of a neighbouring building.

Sebastian obediently did so and was instantly disappointed. 

“I was expecting something a bit…” 

“Flashier?” Jim finished for him. 

“Yeah,” Seb admitted, thinking that he couldn’t have come up with an environment less suited to the explosive brain of Jim Moriarty. 

“It serves its purpose,” Jim said with a wave of his pale hand. Sebastian closed the door behind them and Jim went to perch on his desk. “All I need is a quiet space to store files and work. Somewhere I can replace if I need to.” 

Sebastian was looking around with a creative glint in his blue eyes. Jim watched him curiously, wondering what he was thinking. 

“Tell you what, I could make it more comfortable for you,” Seb volunteered. 

Jim was intrigued by that idea. 

“How?” 

“Old sofa. Some blankets. Better lighting. Bit of colour,” Seb suggested, already thinking about where he could find cheap furniture. He’d always wanted to do a place up. 

“I’ll be spending a lot of time here, so I suppose you could do that. If you wanted.” 

Sebastian nodded. 

“Leave it to me. I reckon I can have it sorted for you in a week.” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Instead of coming home after school, Jim would take a bus to his office, and Sebastian would join him there whenever he could. He’d managed to get hold of a second-hand battered old black leather sofa which he’d covered with cheap pillows and blankets. Jim often fell asleep in his office, because he didn’t sleep much at night anymore, which was why Sebastian had suggested the sofa in the first place. Jim sleeping was the main issue, no matter where that was. Usually, once he’d settled Jim on the sofa, Seb tidied up a bit. 

While Jim snoozed on the sofa, Seb did his own coursework at the main desk. Even he had to admit the new space was helpful. It was far easier to focus when you couldn’t hear kids shouting and messing about while you were trying to write an essay. 

Seb brought in a tape player and he and Jim listened to music on some nights. Jim favoured classical music or the Bee Gees, or really, really camp disco that Seb was sure he picked out just to wind him up. Sebastian played his beloved David Bowie whenever it was his turn to choose, which was oddly less often than Jim. Sometimes, when Jim was manic, he danced and tried to get Sebastian to join him. Once or twice Seb had let Jim drag him around the office, although he had no natural rhythm whatsoever. Jim did. Jim could dance to anything and was fond of swaying his hips from side to side in a really, seriously distracting way. 

Sebastian often had to make a measured effort not to stare at him. 

Nobody else had ever seen Jim like that, Sebastian often thought to himself with a grin. Nobody else got to witness Jim letting himself go and having a proper laugh. Nobody else saw Jim scoffing chocolate or heard Jim singing really badly or sat with him while he shook in a black mood or listened to his thoughts about asteroids and morality and mathematics. 

Seb had seen Jim in almost every human state possible. When Jim had caught a nasty stomach bug months ago, Sebastian had spent the night sitting with him on the bathroom floor while Jim crouched next to the toilet and vomited until he shook. That night, Sebastian had cleaned every trace of sick up, shouted at anyone that approached the bathroom (because Jim wanted his space), rubbed Jim’s back as he was sick and made him drink water to keep his fluids up. 

On the day after, when Jim’s stomach was apparently empty, Sebastian let Jim curl up in his bed with him and stroked his hair. Jim had been too out of it to really appreciate the gesture, but that didn’t matter. It didn’t matter to Seb that Jim smelled faintly of sick, or that his body was freezing cold. It didn’t even matter that he kept on muttering and murmuring and digging his nails into Sebastian’s skin. 

And when Seb predictably caught the same bug two days later, he didn’t make any fuss at all, just took it all on the chin and put himself in quarantine so Jim wouldn’t get it again.

Verity wasn’t pleased that her two oldest charges kept disappearing for entire evenings, turning up just in time for dinner and refusing to say where they’d been. 

Jim completely ignored her and Sebastian usually just told her to fuck off. Neither of them thought the rules applied to them now Dawn had left. 

On some nights, Sebastian would appear with Jim leaning heavily against him, looking ill and drained. Seb always refused to explain, just led Jim up to their bedroom and barricaded the door.

Because Jim’s mind was getting worse. Slowly and steadily it was tearing him apart. 

It happened every other month or so. Jim would spiral out of control and he’d neglect to take care of his body. It started with mild irritation, then grew to full-blown anger for stupid reasons, then developed into a state of numbness where Jim wouldn’t speak, before descending into an attitude of complete non-concern for his own wellbeing, and a desire to regain his feelings. 

Jim’s quest to feel again when he got like this made him dangerous. 

He’d test himself, often by cutting or burning his own skin, sometimes just to see how much he could take, if he cared. Other times as a punishment, as proof of what was happening inside his head. 

When one day Sebastian had arrived at the office to see Jim sitting at his desk, pale forearm bared, penknife in his left hand, he’d sprinted over and snatched it from him, shouting with frustration. Jim couldn’t remember what he’d said, but that didn’t matter. 

Just to show Sebastian that he couldn’t stop him from doing anything he wanted to, he reached into his desk draw, pulled out a fountain pen that had run out of ink, and scratched it across his skin, creating a crimson line of fresh blood. 

Sebastian had let out a sound that Jim could only associate with torture. It wasn’t quite a hiss, and it wasn’t quite a sigh, and it wasn’t quite the word ‘no’, but it reminded Jim of all three things. 

“Why do you do it?” Sebastian had asked, taking the pen out of Jim’s hand and examining the cut. 

Jim looked up at Sebastian with large, blank eyes. 

“To remind myself I’m alive,” he answered simply.

Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean tissue. He began to dab at the cut, which wasn’t particularly deep, mostly superficial. His expression was that of a man in acute pain. 

“I get bored,” Jim continued carelessly. “The blood helps.” 

“How?” 

“I see it, and I feel good,” Jim said.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” 

“It’s not about the pain.” 

“So all you need is to see blood? Yeah?” 

Sebastian was getting a crazy glint in his own eyes, and Jim was intrigued. He often did nowadays. Perhaps the insanity was catching? 

“Yes,” Jim agreed, nodding slowly. 

“Right then,” Sebastian said breathlessly, yanking up his own sleeve and placing his left arm on the table in front of Jim. “Do it.” 

Jim reached out a single finger and trailed it over Sebastian’s open palm, then his wrist where the veins were exposed, right up to his inner arm. Sebastian’s skin was warm to the touch. 

“Do you mean it?” Jim whispered, trying to see if this was just a game.

Sebastian nodded. “Better you do it to me than to yourself. I’m already messed up enough.” 

Jim thought about those scars on Sebastian’s back. They were beautiful, nothing like his own self-inflicted monstrosities. 

But he wanted to make his own mark on Sebastian’s skin, so he picked up the penknife that Sebastian had placed back down on the desk and decided on a location. 

Keeping his eyes on Sebastian’s, holding his gaze, he slowly dragged the blade across Sebastian’s arm, splitting the skin, cutting more deeply than he’d managed on himself. Partly as a test to see what Sebastian would do, if he’d stop him. 

Seb grimaced, but didn’t show any other sign of pain. His arm remained in place. 

Jim took a look at what he’d created. Beads of crimson blood were already starting to drip down Sebastian’s skin. Jim watched them for a moment and then sighed. It hadn’t helped. 

“Now you’re just getting blood on my desk,” he complained, getting to his feet and throwing himself down on the sofa. “And it’s boring.” 

Sebastian knew this mood well. Jim had tried to explain it once, and Seb thought he understood. When Jim said he was bored, it could mean any number of things. It could mean he was miserable, tired or feeling sick. Bored just meant: ‘give me a distraction quickly or I’ll hurt myself’. 

“You want me to give you a foot massage?” 

“Just fuck off, Sebastian!” 

Seb swallowed. Jim had burrowed under the blankets, hiding his face. That meant he was on the verge of tears. 

He wiped his bleeding arm with a tissue and then pulled his sleeve down over it. 

“You’re still here!” Jim shouted. “Leave me alone!” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sebastian told him firmly. “You think I’d leave you like this? Seriously?” 

“Like what?” Jim hissed, sticking his head out from under the blankets. He looked fierce and childish at once. 

“Jim, what the fuck do you think’s going to happen if I stick around? You think I give a shit if you act a bit erratic?” 

Jim grabbed three pillows and threw them at Sebastian’s head in quick succession. They all missed, flying off into the corner of the office. He’d never been good with aim. 

“I was better without you,” Jim hissed, curling up as small as possible. 

That hurt, but Sebastian tried not to take it to heart. Jim said all sorts of things when he was having an episode. He rarely meant it. 

“Jim-“ 

“I cut your fucking arm open!” Jim screamed. “You didn’t even fucking blink!” 

“Yeah, well I’ve had worse,” Sebastian said calmly, trying not to frown at the screaming. The swearing meant Jim was truly slipping into distress, because usually he wouldn’t ‘descend to that level.’

“Come here,” Jim suddenly commanded, snapping his fingers. 

Sebastian walked over to the sofa and sat down next to Jim. 

“If I hit you in the face, what would you do?” Jim demanded, sitting up as well and glaring at Sebastian like he hated him.

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. For some reason, that only increased Jim’s anger. He lashed out and slapped him hard across the face. 

Seb didn’t react. 

So Jim slapped him again and again and again, until finally, Sebastian reached out and caught his hand, holding it firmly. 

“Why don’t you hit me back?” Jim asked, tears starting to stream down his cheeks. Sebastian’s own cheeks had flushed with colour from the blows. 

“You need to sleep,” Sebastian mumbled, carefully letting go of Jim’s wrist. “C’mon. We should go home.” 

“You feel sorry for me, don’t you? You think I’m mad,” Jim spat, curling in on himself again to hide his tears. 

“You’re not mad.” 

“Don’t you dare look at me like that!” 

“Like what? You can’t even see me right now.” 

Jim knew what face Sebastian would be wearing, and it made him feel ill. It was the one Katie Moriarty had so expertly described. It was mingled pity and adoration and concern. 

“Go away, Sebastian,” Jim mumbled into his blankets. “Just leave me alone.” 

“Can’t,” Sebastian murmured back. 

“It’s an order.” 

“You’re not my boss,” Sebastian pointed out. He tentatively reached out a hand and placed it on Jim’s shoulder. Jim ignored it for a moment and then hugged it to his body. 

“If you feel sorry for me, then this isn’t going to work,” Jim said quietly. 

“Why would I feel sorry for you?” 

Slowly, Jim sat upright and turned to face Sebastian. 

“If you don’t feel sorry for me, then why are you still here?” 

Sebastian looked surprised by that question. He scratched at his blond hair awkwardly. 

“’Cause you’re my best mate. I care about you. Thought you knew that.” 

Jim gave in then. He let out a long sigh that dissolved into a sob and then reached out for Sebastian who went to him instantly, cradling him in his arms. 

He did know that. He knew it every second of every day usually. It was only when the black moods hit that he ever doubted. The black moods could trick him into believing all sorts of things. 

It was funny really, Jim thought afterwards. For all the flirting and the teasing and the undeniable attraction that was starting to fizzle between them, in moments like this they really were like brothers. They were like blood. Sebastian was just… there. There when he was needed. Without question. 

He didn’t try to touch Jim in his moments of vulnerability, and Jim had tested him enough times to know he wouldn’t do that. On the nights that Jim curled up in his bed with him, Sebastian never once crossed the line. He didn’t even seem to think about it. Beyond anything else he was loyal and he was loving, and he put Jim first. 

When the pair of teenagers arrived at the home way past their curfew, Verity was met with the sight of Jim, pale, shaking, eyes red from crying, and Sebastian, with an arm around him, snarling and protective, scattering the kids that had amassed at the top of the stairs to see if they’d be in trouble. 

“This has to stop,” Verity commented tiredly. “If he’s ill, then he’ll need to go to the hospital. The psychiatric ward may be the best place for him.” 

“I swear to God, if you send him to the hospital, I’ll fucking end you,” Sebastian grunted. 

The little children gasped. They weren’t allowed to threaten the staff, and Sebastian was usually so nice in front of them. 

“They’re staring at me,” Jim breathed out as Sebastian helped him up the stairs. 

“And that goes for you too!” Sebastian suddenly thundered, making several of the kids start crying. “Clear off! Leave us the fuck alone!” 

Sebastian ignored Verity’s shouts about obedience and setting an example and being sent away and a future behind bars. He focussed instead on getting Jim settled in bed where he could keep a close eye on him and protect him from harm.


	72. Taking the Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets Sebastian to shoot someone.

“I just want to check you’re not all talk.” 

Jim was perched on his desk filing his nails. Seb thought he might be trying to make a point that Seb should stop biting his own, although he couldn’t be sure. 

“So how’s this gonna work, then?” Seb asked as he rolled up his sleeves and took a look at the cabinet he was about to move. Jim, in one of his changeable and awkward moods, had demanded the room be rearranged so he could think better, and Sebastian had been left with the task of pushing the heavy filing cabinets around while Jim changed his mind and made unhelpful comments from his perch.

“You point the gun at the nasty man and pull the trigger,” Jim said in his sing-song voice, clapping like an excitable seal. Sebastian sniffed at him. 

“Yeah, very funny. Seriously, though. You can’t just send me in without an objective.” 

Jim raised an eyebrow, suddenly returning to normal. He threw his nail file at Sebastian and it hit him in the chest before falling to the floor. 

“Someone’s been reading up on the army again,” he commented, his tone heavy with displeasure. 

Seb nodded proudly. He tried to keep up to date on the military and did all he could to make sure he’d be able to cut it one day, as the perfect soldier. It was creeping closer, that opportunity. Although he didn’t like to think about it too much. Not now. 

Jim tutted loudly and waggled his finger at him. Seb wiped the smile from his face and got back into a business frame of mind. 

“What do I have to do?” he asked, pushing at a cabinet. It made a horrific screeching noise as it dragged across the floor that made his skin feel sore. Jim didn’t react to the noise at all. 

“It’s very simple. I didn’t want to tax you on your first go. This man let me down and he’s a liability. A nuisance, quite frankly, who I could do without.”

Seb finished with the cabinet and leaned against it. The metal felt cool against his back. 

“Any ground rules?” 

Jim nodded. 

“You need to kill him.” 

Yeah, brilliant advice, that, Sebastian thought to himself bitterly. Jim seemed to get a kick out of being vague and making him ask stupid questions. He didn’t let the thought escape his mouth, though. 

“Instantly?”

“I’d prefer it if you could. Less mess. But I understand that you might have a few first-time wobbles.” 

Sebastian looked offended by the idea. First time fucking wobbles. How hard could it be to aim a gun at someone and shoot?

“And we’re clearing it up?” 

Jim was appalled by the prospect. He screwed up his features comically and shook his head. “What do you think I am?” 

Seb bristled.

“Well, I’m new to this,” he said defensively.

The scale of Jim’s secret workings hadn’t been apparent to Sebastian until recently, and he was starting to realise that this wasn’t just your average backstreet scam for a bit of cash. It stretched out across Europe and already people were clamouring to gain the services of Moriarty. 

“People will clear it up for me,” Jim told Seb firmly. 

“Can you trust them?” 

“Seeing as I could give their details to the police and I’m more valuable to them alive, yes.” 

Seb sniffed. 

“Who’s this bloke, then?” 

Jim beckoned Sebastian to him, and obediently the tall blond stopped in front of him. Jim parted his legs, just to get Sebastian flustered, and pulled Sebastian between them. 

“Nathaniel Brooker.” 

He saw a muscle working in Sebastian’s jaw, watched him swallow down. Other than that, he bore the teasing well. 

“Prick?” 

Jim paused. 

“No, actually. I think you’d probably like him.” 

Seb looked uncertain. Jim reached out to stroke his cheek tenderly. 

“Has that put you off?” he crooned softly, tilting his head to one side. 

“No,” Seb grunted back firmly. 

“I think it has,” Jim sang, his smile growing. 

“Fuck off.” 

“Tell me to fuck off again and I’ll fire you,” Jim said lazily, giving Seb’s cheek a sharp pinch. Seb wrinkled up his nose then, which Jim found hugely amusing. Seb didn’t like that at all, being pinched and babied. Funny how he could take a slap to the face but didn’t like the bite of nails on his cheeks. Jim would remember that for future reference. 

“Yes, boss,” he sighed, seeming to force the word out of his mouth. Sebastian was strangely reluctant to refer to Jim as a businessman, but he needed to learn some respect and obedience sooner or later. 

Jim beamed, more happy about that forced tone than the word itself. 

“So, have I put a spanner in the works?” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. He can’t do it as well as I can, Jim mused thoughtfully. When Seb rolled his eyes he ended up looking sulky, like a man at the end of his tether. 

“You wish,” Sebastian muttered. 

Jim laughed again, the sound high and tinkling. He let his hand wander to Sebastian’s throat, poking and prodding at his Adam’s apple. 

“You used to have a conscience, you know,” he reminded Sebastian as he felt for stubble on Seb’s jaw. 

“Still do.” 

“You’re about to shoot a man you know nothing about,” Jim said quietly, now trailing his fingers up to Sebastian’s right ear and pinching the lobe. Seb wrinkled up his nose again, causing a wide grin to spread on Jim’s face. 

“Yeah, well, you need him dead,” Seb said firmly. 

Jim removed his hand from Sebastian’s face. Instead, he placed both of his palms on Sebastian’s chest. He looked up at him thoughtfully, and then nodded to himself. 

Seb didn’t like that look one bit. 

“I don’t,” Jim said finally. 

“Sorry?” 

“I don’t need him dead. It’s just easier that way. Want isn’t need. I feel like it.”

“Right,” Seb said, faltering slightly. 

He knew what Jim was doing. It was a fucking dick move, Seb thought, but he could hardly say so. 

“It’s a whim,” Jim continued. He was definitely playing with him now, testing his new morality.

Sebastian shot Jim a flat look. He did that an awful lot now, Jim mused. It was delicious, though. It was the look of a man that had learned to bite back his displeasure and only let it poison his face and eyes. He was too wise to complain outwardly, so he let it fester on the inside. 

“What are you doing this for?” Seb demanded. 

Jim sighed, long and lingering, and patted Seb on the chest affectionately. 

“I want to see which wins out, your heroic instinct, or your desire to please me.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Sebastian said, starting to move away. Jim prevented that from happening with a simple movement of his legs. He hooked them around Sebastian’s body and dug his nails into the fabric of Sebastian’s shirt. 

“Excuse me?” he demanded, raising his eyebrows at Sebastian. 

Seb quickly amended his statement, but delivered it in exactly the same tone. 

“You’re having a laugh, boss.” 

“Better, and yes. I am having a laugh. Because it’s fun.” 

“Each to their own,” Sebastian mumbled. 

Jim tightened his legs around Sebastian and draped his arms around Sebastian’s neck. With one movement, he could be in Sebastian’s arms, straddling him like he had that day at the swimming pool.

“Don’t play coy with me, darling,” he sighed, tilting his head again. 

Sebastian swallowed. That muscle in his jaw was twitching. Poor darling, Jim thought. He had a lot to learn. He’d need to mask those natural reactions one day, otherwise people would be able to see through him in a heartbeat.

“Thought we weren’t doing nicknames, ‘cause of the business environment?” Seb mumbled defiantly. 

“I’m the boss,” Jim emphasised. “I call you whatever I want.” 

“Jim-“

“You enjoy this too. Don’t think I didn’t notice how excited you were after Carl died.” 

Seb looked uncomfortable. This time it was nothing to do with their close proximity and Jim’s wandering fingers on the back of his neck. He looked pained, genuinely pained. 

“Truth hurts, hm?” Jim asked softly. 

“You’re making me out to be… I dunno, a psycho or something.” 

Jim tutted and ran his fingertips through Sebastian’s blond hair. 

“Oh, don’t fret. I don’t think you’re psychopath. You’re just very unusual in terms of morality.” 

Seb’s blue eyes widened slightly with interest. 

“Am I?” 

“Do you think most people would kill if they were ordered to?” 

“If they cared about someone as much as I-“ 

“That’s the point,” Jim cut in sharply. “Most people don’t. They don’t have the same depth of feeling and devotion that you do.” 

Seb didn’t know what to say to that. To him, it came naturally. He’d presumed it was something everyone possessed and could unlock if they found someone they could be truly loyal to. He had never once, not in his whole life, considered that he was abnormal on that front. The thought shook him slightly. 

“Is that a good thing?” he asked quietly. 

Jim gave him a pitying look. He withdrew his arms and freed Sebastian from the embrace of his skinny legs. 

Despite himself, Seb felt himself aching to be held close like that again. 

“For me it is,” Jim agreed. “Certainly not for them.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The warehouse was dark, dismal, damp, empty and most of all, absolutely bloody freezing cold. It shouldn’t have been, because the weather outside was mild enough. Jim must have anticipated it, because he was wearing his best coat, but Seb, in a hoodie and jeans as per usual, had to shove his hands in his pockets and be done with it. 

“When I give you the signal, you shoot,” Jim said airily, reaching for Sebastian’s arm so he could check the time on his watch. 

“Jim, you can’t just-“ 

Jim nodded to himself and patted Sebastian on the bum. 

“Go,” he commanded, already losing interest. 

“Jim-“ 

“That’s an order, sweetheart.” 

“For fuck’s sake…” Seb grumbled as he stalked off into the shadows of the freezing warehouse to wait it out.

The hit, Brooker, was set to arrive in five minutes time. Sebastian had been nervous when he woke up that morning, fretting about evidence and fingerprints and ending up behind bars, but now he was here none of that seemed to matter. He had a job to do. Jim’s orders came before anything else. 

Eventually, a car pulled up outside and a man strode into the warehouse. He was wearing a long black coat and walked with a slight gait. Still, he cut an intimidating figure as he approached Jim, who stood quietly, waiting. 

Nathaniel Brooker had a brown beard and thick, bushy eyebrows. He was a man in his forties, although he had a rough look to him. His eyes were hazel and he had two distinctive moles on his cheek, right next to each other. His nose was sharp and he had the look of a man that could get violent quickly. 

As the man walked towards him, Jim stood still in his spot, barely even bothering to glance up until the heavy footsteps had stopped and Brooker was getting impatient. 

“Oi, pipsqueak. Are you having a laugh?” Nathaniel demanded in a cockney accent. He was a proper East End boy. Seb was glad his own voice wasn’t quite that bad, because Jim looked displeased by the tone. 

“Expecting someone older?” Jim asked, finally raising his head to look at the man. 

Nathaniel rubbed his large hands together and then blew on them. He seemed darkly amused. 

“And a paddy bastard too. Where’s the big man?” 

Jim gave a look of polite interest. 

“The big man?” 

“Moriarty. Where is he?” 

“He’s right here.” 

Nathaniel laughed. The sound was harsh, grating. Sebastian wanted to charge out of the shadows and stand at Jim’s side. He didn’t like seeing Jim face to face with this bloke. Anything could happen to him. 

“Tell him I’m not here for a joke. I’ve got places to be.” 

“Jim Moriarty. Right here. Hello.” 

Brooker surveyed Jim then shook his head. 

“No way.” 

Jim turned and began to walk a few steps away. Seb felt his body tense as Jim turned his back to the enemy, but Nathaniel made no move to harm him. It was like Jim was surrounded by a force field, some sort of barrier that prevented people from getting too close. 

“I’m curious. Why don’t you think I’m him?” Jim wondered aloud as he reached into his pocket. 

Nathaniel tensed and reached for his own pocket, but Jim turned with a smirk and popped a piece of chewing gum into his mouth. 

Seb knew why Jim had done that. He was showing Sebastian where Nathaniel was keeping his weapon. That reflex action told Seb that Brooker was keeping a knife in his left pocket. 

“He never shows his face,” Brooker said loudly. 

“Oh, he does occasionally,” Jim assured him, not reacting to that change of tone. His own voice was quiet and compelling as it echoed off the walls, the Irish lilt heavy and strangely foreboding. “To the right people. Under the right circumstances.” 

“If you’re messing me around, kid, then I’ll-“ 

Jim suddenly brought a hand up to his own lips as he chewed his gum, gesturing for silence. Brooker obeyed. 

“And when else do you think the notorious Moriarty might show his face? Hm?” Jim asked, as though posing an intriguing theological question. 

“When-“ 

The man blanched. Jim threw his head back and laughed. 

“No,” Nathaniel muttered. 

“Oh yes. He shows his face when a person is no longer a threat or is unlikely to be able to tell any tales in future.” 

The man’s hand went to his pocket again. Seb kept his eye on that. He knew he was supposed to be waiting for orders, but if that bastard pulled a knife on Jim, Seb was going to shoot him in the stomach, let him bleed out. 

“You’ve got nothing on me I can’t give back tenfold,” Nathaniel snarled. 

“Quite right,” Jim agreed amiably. “Which leaves me with one option.” 

“He wouldn’t send a kid to kill me.” 

“I’m him and he’s me,” Jim drawled impatiently. “I’ve been unmasked. Tah-dah!” 

Jim even did bloody jazz hands, Seb noticed. He was really camping it up today. He wondered if it was for his benefit, or if Jim was always like this. If he hadn’t been keeping his eyes on that knife, his fingers steady on the metal of his gun, Sebastian would have grinned. 

“You can’t kill me.” 

“No?” 

“You’re just a kid. I could break your neck if I wanted.” 

Jim nodded, pretending to look politely threatened by that. Even Seb thought it was fucking creepy, the way he chewed away at his gum in the face of this massive man raging and threatening him. 

“Bullet beats fisticuffs, I think.” 

“You what?” 

“It’s a threat,” Jim sang with a shrug of his shoulders. “You let me down. Nobody fails me and gets away with it.” 

Nathaniel’s eyes darted towards the shadows, suddenly starting to catch on. He spotted the outline at last. A shady figure of a man. The glint of metal…

“No!” he yelled, starting to back away. “No! Listen here you little shit, I’m the best dealer you’ve got-“ 

Jim snapped his fingers, loudly, clearly. 

BANG.

Nathaniel collapsed on the ground with a dull thud. The gunshot echoed through the warehouse over and over. The ghost of Nathaniel’s last shout seeming to ring in the new silence.

Seb looked immediately to Jim. 

He hadn’t reacted. Just continued to chew his bloody gum. 

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sang, still using his business persona. Sebastian sniffed and emerged from the shadows. He was keen to see the damage. His blood was already pumping as he raced towards his high. 

Jim approached the corpse and poked at him with his shoe. 

“Turn him over for me, will you, darling?” Jim asked. 

Seb obliged. He kicked the man over until he was face down on the freezing ground. 

‘Christ,” he found himself muttering as the extent of his wound was exposed. 

The back of his head was blown wide open, blood poured from the open skull, staining the ground crimson. 

“Well done,” Jim said. His expression and tone hadn’t changed. The death meant nothing to him. He may as well have been watching a film instead of taking part in the events. 

Seb, on the other hand, felt suddenly energised. Ready to punch the air. All that power. He’d taken a life with the squeeze of a trigger. One word and he’d done it. Torn a bloke from his body. Left him dead on the ground, no longer a threat, no longer anything. 

“Take out his wallet,” Jim commanded lightly. “Right pocket. Don’t worry about fingerprints. He’s going to be ashes in an hour’s time.” 

Sebastian did as he was told. He was breathing heavily, he noticed, as he heard his own panting in the large warehouse. Grabbing the wallet he presented it to Jim. 

Jim flicked through it, examining the man’s cards. He still seemed disinterested by the whole thing, moving deftly out of the way of the blood that was starting to creep towards his expensive shoes. 

“Here,” he said, handing it back to Sebastian. 

Seb took it uncertainly. There was a picture of Nathaniel in the front with a smiling woman and a baby boy. 

“Thoughts?” Jim asked. 

There was a dangerous moment, when Seb saw the laughing baby, where he felt his stomach drop. But then his adrenaline returned and took over his reactions. He shook his head, physically ridding himself of any guilt, and forced himself to take a long, final look at the photo, until he felt nothing. Just the same as Jim. 

“He shouldn’t have got in your way,” Seb grunted in a voice alien to him. It was cold and low and hard. 

Jim really did smile then. It soothed Sebastian to see it. 

“Come on. They’ll be here for the clear-up soon. We should go.” 

Without a word, Sebastian followed Jim out of the warehouse, their footsteps echoing through the cold. Jim’s were quick and light and almost balletic. Sebastian’s were steady and firm, although not much heavier than Jim’s own. 

“Hand,” Jim commanded as they walked through a scummy London backstreet. The air was definitely warmer now. It felt different. Polluted and thick and oddly reassuring. 

Seb presented his palm to Jim obediently and Jim spat out his gum into it. He could have added to the accumulating mess already on the pavement, Seb knew, but he decided to take it as a compliment that the gum was now sitting in his clenched palm. 

“Jim?” he asked eventually as they continued to walk. His adrenaline was getting the better of him now. He needed something. Anything. 

“Hm?” 

Jim quirked up an eyebrow with interest. Sebastian swallowed before his next word.

“Hungry.” 

Jim looked momentarily disappointed, but then started to laugh, loudly and genuinely. “Oh, you’re that type, are you? Okay, Sebby, we’ll stop at the chip shop.” 

“What type? What are you on about?” Seb asked defensively. 

Jim gave him a pitying look. 

“Never mind, sweetheart. I’ll bear it in mind for later on.” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“You’re pleased with me,” Seb pointed out as he ate chips. He’d eaten his way through one bag already and he was currently on his second. He couldn’t bloody well get enough. His body was craving something to soothe the racing adrenaline shifting in his bones, and food seemed like a good idea for now. There was a void inside him, a fresh emptiness. A cold, clear, blade of ice in his chest. He needed to ground himself. 

“How can you tell?” Jim asked. 

They were seated on a park bench, once again surrounded by pigeons. Jim kept throwing them chips and watching as they clustered around each morsel. It was becoming a favourite pastime of his. 

“You let me put vinegar on this lot for one thing,” Seb pointed out, gesturing at the chips. 

Jim chuckled and let his head fall back. 

“Well, you have just ended a man’s life at my command,” Jim said indulgently. “Your first.”

Seb frowned. 

“Third.” 

“No, first. Stanley, you chose to do yourself. Carl, you only helped me. This is your first ordered assassination.” 

Sebastian nodded his head and swallowed a mouthful of chips. He was still feeling too wild. On top of the world. The food hadn’t really done much for him other than give his mouth something to do. What he needed, he didn’t know, but his body was screaming for some form of relief. Everything felt flat now, after the elation of the gunshot. 

“We should celebrate,” he said, lobbing a handful of chips to the pigeons. 

“Are you too good for chips now? I thought you were a proud Londoner?” 

Even Seb grinned at that, although Jim noticed his legs kept on twitching, his trainers scuffing the ground. 

“Seriously, though. We should do something,” Seb insisted. 

“Hm?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jim waited, wondering which idea would catch Sebastian’s interest first. He was hoping for one very particular suggestion, but realistically, he doubted he’d get it. 

“If it’s entertaining, I’ll say yes,” he agreed. 

“Something different, yeah? Something just us. Something we’ve never done before.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. 

“Maaaaaaybe,” he sang. 

Sebastian paused in thought, cramming his mouth with chips as he did so. The energy still buzzing through his veins made his muscles ache for movement. 

“Got it,” he announced. 

“What?” 

“Daytrip.” 

Jim started to chuckle again, almost doubling over with the sensation. Oh, this was just too good, he thought. Poor ‘Bastian. Still stuck with his duty. It was currently overruling what his own body was clearly trying to scream out for. Jim could sense it, a heat radiating from Sebastian’s form as he sat beside him, so he could only imagine what it felt like inside Sebastian’s skin. 

“Beach. Seaside. We’ve never been. Not together,” Seb continued, not at all put off by Jim’s reaction. “Be the right weather for it soon.”

“You’ve gone before?” 

“When I was a kid, yeah. Think so.” 

Sebastian vaguely remembered the sensation of sand beneath his chubby, childish toes. For some reason he thought he could recall his Father in blue trunks, looking strong and noble and every inch the hero, his mother in a pink swimsuit. Or perhaps that was all in his mind? A figment of his imagination. 

Jim nodded his head and patted Sebastian on his thigh. 

“Fine, we’ll have a celebratory trip to the beach. In honour of your kill. If you think it’ll help.” 

Seb grinned, feeling pleased with himself. His limbs still twitched though, his fingers flexing with the need for something. 

“What shall we do there?” Jim asked, leaning his head against Sebastian’s shoulder. 

“Sunbathe?” 

Jim reached for one of Sebastian’s greasy hands and stroked his palm, feeling for the electricity there. 

“’Bastian, I’m Irish. I don’t tan, I burn.” 

“You’ll be alright if you use sun-cream.” 

Jim smirked to himself. 

“I suppose I might let you rub it all over me,” Jim agreed with a glint in his eyes. “Would you do that for me? Because I won’t be able to reach everywhere. That could be fun, couldn’t it? What do you think ‘Bastian? Hm?” 

Sebastian paused. His body tensed. 

Had he realised yet?

“Yeah,” Sebastian finally mumbled. 

Seb’s mouth seemed to open slightly at the mental image that gave him. Jim smirked and shifted away from Seb, leaving him to his thoughts. 

He stood, brushed down his suit, and glanced at Sebastian over his shoulder. 

“Oh, and darling,” he added, appreciating Sebastian’s confused expression, the hint of pure want in his eyes. “Keep those lovely lips closed when you’re chewing.”


	73. The Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian take a celebratory trip to the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child abuse.

The beach was far more fun than Jim had expected. Sebastian loved the heat on his already tanned skin and couldn’t seem to wait to traipse into the icy cold sea to have a swim around. Jim waved him off and perched on a towel, watching as he splashed about. Seb kept his shirt on, because of his scars, but that hardly mattered because it ended up sticking to his skin in a few minutes flat. Jim enjoyed the show very much. 

The sand didn’t agree with Jim, however. He disliked how it got between his toes and kept going in his eyes. The noise of families all around irritated him, and as he watched the children digging pointless holes with brightly coloured buckets and spades, he found entertainment in imagining them falling in headfirst. 

Seb returned to him eventually like an exhilarated and loyal puppy, keen to know if Jim had been watching him. Jim agreed that he had and Seb looked content.

As they strolled along the beach front, Seb still damp and drying off, starting to smell of salt, Jim sauntering beside him stealing the occasional glance at him before his shirt returned to normal, they passed several vans selling food. 

Seb bought himself a massive greasy burger with onions and tomato sauce that Jim warned him would probably give him food poisoning. Seb just shrugged. He wasn’t afraid of getting ill the way Jim was. Jim later demanded candy floss and doughnuts, attracted by the smell of sugar in the air. 

They walked back along the beach as they ate, Jim chattering and complaining while Seb listened and enjoyed the heat. Jim was clad in shorts and a t-shirt with a pair of flip-flops. Seb was in his usual jeans and t-shirt combination, and trainers too, because he refused to wear footwear which meant he couldn’t run. Jim teased him that his feet were too ugly to expose to the rest of the world anyway.

There were lots of girls in bikinis fluttering around and laughing. They seemed to like Sebastian rather a lot, so Jim shot them a glare and walked even closer to the blond, trying to mark his territory and ward off any other people who wanted to ogle Seb. 

When the beach became too busy, they diverted to the amusement arcades to have a look around. 

Jim set his heart on owning a cheap teddy holding a love heart, and Sebastian was eventually roped into spending a tenner on the grabber machine, trying to win it for him. Jim watched the pure concentration Seb used while operating the stupid claw that wouldn’t close properly as part of the scam that prevented people like Sebastian, who were really very good at judging when to grab for whatever prize it was he wanted, from winning every time and losing the arcade money. Seb stuck his tongue between his teeth and kept his eyes fixed on the machine. He kept on changing his angle as well, taking it all very seriously, determined to succeed. 

When the teddy was finally picked up by the metal claw and dropped unceremoniously down the chute, Jim gave Sebastian a hug and then almost doubled over laughing at Seb’s proud expression. 

Seb wasn’t nearly as good with the penny falls. He couldn’t seem to get his timing right, which irritated Jim beyond belief, because it was honestly just maths and probability applied in a real world scenario. There was something immensely satisfying about the clatter of coppers Jim managed to gain in an avalanche of success. They all got wasted again, but that hardly mattered. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

As the weather got cooler, they headed for the pier to see what the view was like from right at the end. Jim, who’d been clutching the cheap and ugly bear, gave a long sigh and shot the toy a disapproving look. 

“I don’t want it,” he announced.

Seb looked a little hurt by that. 

“Are you serious?” 

Jim nodded his head solemnly. 

“I said I wanted you to win it for me, not that I wanted to keep it.” 

In Jim’s head, that probably made sense, Seb supposed, so he decided not to make a fuss. It was a fucking ugly bear anyway, and not something he particularly wanted sitting in their bedroom. 

Jim handed the bear to him, washing his hands of it. 

“Fine,” Seb sighed. “Well, I’m not lugging it around with us for the rest of the afternoon.’ 

“What will you do with it?” 

The blond looked around and spotted a kid by the edge of the pier. He was waiting for his parents. Sitting alone with his legs crossed, watching the sea miserably. Seb thought he’d probably been forgotten about while his parents visited a bar. 

“Give me a sec,” Sebastian said, before strolling ahead. 

He gave the teddy bear to the child who smiled and hugged it against his chest. Seb returned to Jim looking bright and pleased with himself. 

Jim rolled his eyes but let him have his moment of charity and good-will.

“Well, I definitely know your weakness,” Jim drawled as they continued along the pier. 

“Yeah?” 

“Children. You don’t like seeing them hurt.”

Seb shrugged his shoulders. 

“You make it out to be some massive thing.” 

“Katie. You were kind to Katie.” 

“That’s because she was a Moriarty. You know I have a soft spot for those,” Seb joked lightly.

Jim didn’t smile. He looked thoughtful and then stopped walking. Sebastian did the same. Jim turned on the spot and stared at the little boy now holding the teddy bear Seb had given to him. 

“Say I wanted that little mite in the blue shirt pushed into the sea,” he declared seriously. “Would you do that?” 

Seb paused. 

“No,” he admitted honestly. 

“Exactly.” 

“Would you do it?” Seb asked. “Could you push him?’ 

Jim thought on it for a moment. 

“I only bother myself with things if I stand to gain from them. And I don’t think I could gain from drowning that poor, pathetic, ugly child and his equally ugly bear. So no." 

Sebastian grinned. 

“Knew it,” he said triumphantly. 

“Knew what?” Jim demanded, starting to look affronted. 

“You keep saying you’re evil. Bad to the bone.” 

“I am,” Jim said with certainty. 

“You’re not. You’re a businessman. That’s what it is. It’s just a business brain, only your business is crime, so the risks you take can get lethal.” 

“I’m still ruthless.” 

“I know,” Seb agreed. “But you don’t hurt people for the hell of it. You do it for gain.” 

Jim chuckled, although he wasn’t particularly amused. 

“I’m a complete and utter nutcase, Sebastian. Everyone says so. Or haven’t you heard?” 

Sebastian shook his head. He never liked to hear Jim talking about himself in that way.

“The only people you properly lash out at, are yourself and me,” he said slowly. 

“Very true.” 

“People that think you’re mental seriously underestimate you.” 

“Sebastian,” Jim sighed, placing a hand on his arm. “Do you think I’d have got this far if I let people see me for what I really am?” 

“Which is?”

“Never you mind,” Jim said swiftly. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“You’re very odd indeed, Sebby,” Jim declared as the pair of them sat on the sea wall in the evening light, watching the beach get gradually swallowed up by the rising tide.

Around them were the sounds and smells of the beach front. The amusement arcades, the annoying distant electronic tunes to draw in the tourists, the clatter of coins, seagulls calling to each other across the sea, the rush of the waves, the noise of cars passing roads away, muted music from bars, people laughing. The spot they’d chosen was wonderfully private. In the cold of the evening, most of the beach-goers had long since retreated to their hotels, or to the numerous bars and restaurants scattered along the front. Seb didn’t seem to feel the cold, though, and Jim didn’t care in the slightest. 

“I know.” 

“No, you still don’t. You’re wicked to the core now,” Jim informed him. 

“Yep.” 

“But you still like children as much as ever. It’s your weakness. So maybe you’re not rotten?” Jim mused, frowning. “Maybe you’re just mouldy. Going off?” 

“Cheers.”

“You want to care for things. It’s your first instinct. Even when you’re killing people, your brain tells you ‘care for Jim.’ “ 

Sebastian sniffed in the fresh sea air and swung his legs. 

“Look, can we just enjoy ourselves and forget about all that stuff for one day?” 

“You’re like an animal, really,” Jim continued regardless. “Rather than a human. I thought that before, you know. You get protective.” 

“Go on then, which animal would I be if you had to pick one?” Seb asked, giving in and deciding to make the most of Jim’s talkative mood, even if it did seem a little sour, bordering on ‘not quite right’ territory. He’d keep an eye on it to make sure Jim didn’t hit manic. 

Jim near the sheer drop down to the beach was a bit of a risk, but Seb didn’t think he looked like he was in the mood to try anything stupid. He was contemplative, but not intent on his own destruction today. If he jumped, Sebastian would be right behind him. 

Jim hummed, enjoying the question. “Not a bird.” 

“Nope?” 

“No. And not a fish.” 

“Really narrowing it down now,” Seb said sarcastically. “Are we going for a mammal or a reptile?” 

“Oh, mammal,” Jim said with certainty. “I’m a reptile.”

“’Cause you’re getting scaly?” Sebastian ventured to tease.

“Because I’m cold-blooded, and you’re warm-blooded,” Jim said sternly, giving Sebastian a look. Seb nodded his head to show that he’d accepted his warning. 

“Alright. So I’m a mammal.” 

“A strong mammal. But able to be tamed.” 

“Fucking tamed…”

“I always used to think of you as a lion when I was a child,” Jim admitted. Talk of his mental processes as a kid was so rare that Seb stopped teasing and listened, eager to hear more. 

“Why?”

“I used to have dreams about being at the circus. I was always in charge. I was a tamer. I had a whip and a top hat and one of those red tailcoats.” 

Strangely enough, Seb could imagine Jim in that outfit fairly well. 

“So you were the ringmaster?” 

“Yes. I used to set the lions on the audience when they didn’t do what I said,” Jim revealed with a smile. “I used to enjoy those dreams. Shame they stopped happening when I was eleven.” 

Sebastian’s own mirroring smile dropped from his face. Eleven was when Stanley had happened, when Jim started to get nightmares and wet the bed and shout out in his sleep. He hadn’t been the same since. 

“And what about you, ‘Bastian?” Jim asked, suddenly shaking himself out of his thoughts. He patted Sebastian on his broad chest as they looked out at the sea. 

“What did I dream about?” 

“Yes. Or what do you dream about. If it isn’t too explicit.” 

Sebastian turned his head to grin at Jim and found the pale teenager smirking back at him knowingly. 

“Seriously? I’ve never really dreamed that much. I’m out like a light when I hit the pillow.” 

“Hm, I’ve noticed,” Jim drawled. “You could snore for England, too.” 

Seb gave another crooked grin before growing thoughtful. 

“But sometimes… well, I used to dream about war.”

Jim leaned against Sebastian and watched the seagulls in the distance. The dying sun glinted on the sea, like a slice of light on the horizon. 

“Good dreams?” 

“Yeah, mostly. I was never scared. Not even when the bullets were flying. Not even when people were getting torn apart. I always felt I was… better, I suppose. I know that sounds cocky, but you can’t help what you dream about, can you?” 

“No,” Jim agreed solemnly. “Life would be very different if you could.” 

“Used to dream about home sometimes,” Sebastian admitted, his voice quiet and low. Jim noticed his eyes were also fixed on the horizon, but he didn’t appear to be seeing properly. 

“Your Father?” 

Sebastian nodded, not able to speak. He was uncomfortable, Jim could see, but he also looked like he needed to talk, to get his emotions out. 

“That’s only natural, ‘Bastian,” he told him. “You had a traumatic childhood.” 

“Didn’t,” Sebastian grunted. 

Jim sighed and turned his head to face Sebastian. His silhouette in the dimming light was gorgeous and yet strangely sad too. He’d always been built like a soldier facially. Somehow the strength of his jaw and the set of his cheekbones made him appear solemn as well as slightly threatening. His lashes were visible in this light, not as long as Jim’s own, and quite pale, but still pleasant to look at as the sun reflected in his blue eyes. 

“You did,” Jim said softly. “You’re seventeen now. How long are you going to keep pretending what happened was normal?” 

“Shut it,” Seb breathed out. His chest was heaving with emotion, although the rest of his body was very still. 

“It started when you were two,” Jim said, still talking quietly, even though nobody was close enough to listen to the two teenagers sitting together by the beach front. “I read your file. What sort of a man does that to a two year old? Not someone you’d admire.” 

Sebastian flinched, as though he’d been physically wounded. 

“You don’t give a shit about kids. Dunno why you think you’ve got the moral fucking high ground,” he forced out. 

“No,” Jim agreed. “I don’t give a shit about them. But I don’t have one. I’m never going to have one. Because I’m wise enough to know I’m not the right sort of person for it.” 

Sebastian looked so pained that Jim longed to help him, but he was a soldier, a true soldier. He repressed everything he felt, afraid to show weakness and let himself seem vulnerable. 

“He took you and he opened up your back,” Jim half whispered, keeping his eyes on Sebastian’s face the entire time to make sure he wasn’t pushing too far. “He used cigarettes on you when you were three. Car keys when you were four. And the bruises, Sebby. I’ve seen them. There’s a picture in your file from the hospital.” 

“The army,” Sebastian panted out, his blue eyes full of a misery so deep that Jim could barely stand it. “He was different after. Wasn’t his fault. So you should… you should shut your fucking mouth… or I’ll fucking shut it for you… got it?” 

Jim would usually have snapped at the threat, but right now he couldn’t. It was all a poor attempt at self defence from Sebastian. He almost couldn’t believe they’d never had this conversation before, but then, he supposed, a lot of the time they were busy with his own problems. Too busy to focus on Seb.

“Okay, ‘Bastian,” Jim agreed quietly. “Okay.” 

He reached out his hand tentatively and placed it on top of Sebastian’s. At first Seb’s hand was unyielding. He was afraid of letting him in, Jim could see. It was obvious. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Sebastian this close to breaking before.

Jim pressed a kiss to Sebastian’s shoulder and Seb allowed him to interlink their fingers. 

“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?” Jim commented, just to stop the awful silence. But Sebastian didn’t answer him. Jim turned to him, ready to tut, when he spotted a tear tricking down Sebastian’s cheek and dropping onto his jeans. 

He was crying silently, without moving his face at all. His jaw was set, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but his body was totally still. His eyes still gazed ahead of him, unseeing. 

“It’s alright, Sebby,” Jim said quickly, feeling his chest ache at the sight. “We’ve had a nice day here. We don’t need to spoil it now, do we?” 

Seb shook his head stiffly. 

“Don’t cry,” Jim whispered, truly feeling fear settling in his gut. It was strange how the sight of Sebastian crying like this could do that to him, when seeing a man shot dead before his eyes couldn’t get him to feel a thing, not even a twinge of horror or guilt or regret. 

He reached out a hand to cup Sebastian’s cheek and wiped a single tear away with his fingertip. 

“Look at me,” Jim commanded softly. 

It took Sebastian a moment to do as he was told. When his eyes met Jim’s they were fierce and miserable and wary. There was a little boy inside this big, strong, teenager, Jim realised. He’d never really gone away. There was ten year old Sebastian staring back at him, ashamed of his ugly scars, embarrassed by his failure, that his parents didn’t want him. 

“I still love you, you know,” Jim said quietly. 

Seb swallowed. He seemed unable to speak in his despair. 

“And that’s all that matters,” Jim continued in his softest voice. “I’m proud of you. You haven’t failed me yet. You’ve never failed me. I don’t think you ever will.” 

“Jim-“ Sebastian managed to say, his lips barely moving. 

“Shhh, now, it’s okay,” Jim comforted him, pressing a finger to his chapped lips. They were slightly wet from his tears. “We don’t have to talk about this again. We can forget it happened. We can talk about animals and dreams and lion taming again. This can all be erased.” 

“’M fine,” Seb mumbled defiantly, even though he clearly wasn’t. 

“It’s getting cold, isn’t it?” Jim said conversationally. “We should probably think about getting the bus back.” 

“You want my jacket?” Seb asked nobly, moving to take it off. Jim nodded his head and allowed Sebastian to drape him in the overly large leather jacket. It was warm and comforting, although the main reason he’d allowed it was to give Sebastian something to do. He needed tasks, sometimes, to keep him sane. 

“Does it suit me?” Jim teased, trying a smile. 

Sebastian didn’t smile back. He nodded his head. “Everything suits you,” he mumbled. 

“What, even that lime green top you loathe?” Jim asked, raising an eyebrow. It was half-hearted, but still an attempt to make Seb feel better, to draw him into some of their usual banter. 

“Yeah,” he agreed seriously. 

Jim sighed, and then patted Sebastian’s hand. 

“Come on. We have a bus and a train to catch. And some explaining to do. Verity isn’t going to be pleased we’ve been gone for a whole day.” 

“Jim-“ Sebastian mumbled again, taking his pale, cool hand and keeping him where he was for a moment. 

Jim turned to him quizzically and raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Jim, I think you’re brilliant,” Sebastian said in a rush. 

“I know you do, sweetheart,” Jim agreed with a sad smile. “You let me know that with just about everything you do.” 

Sebastian took a large swallow and then sniffed, looking determined. 

“No, you don’t get it,” he insisted gruffly. “Jim, I really…” 

“You really?” Jim repeated curiously, his gaze flickering all over Sebastian’s face. 

“Jim, I…” 

Jim broke into a smile, not his usual pleased smirk. It was soft and for once his expression seemed gentle, more open and vulnerable than he usually allowed it to be. 

He leaned in and rested his forehead against Sebastian’s. 

“I know, darling,” Jim breathed. “You don’t have to say it.” 

They were sharing breath now, Sebastian’s coming in low pants as his chest heaved. Jim’s were lighter. But then, he’d never been nervous about this. He had known it was leading here from very early on.

“Let it go,” Jim commanded in a whisper. “We’re not brothers right now. We’re more than that.” 

Sebastian took a moment, savouring the feeling of Jim’s breath against his lips.

“We always have been,” Jim continued quietly. “This is right. It’s the right time. It was always supposed to happen.” 

Sebastian tilted his head slightly to the left, and Jim followed suit, finally bridging the gap. Their lips met with light pressure and Jim was sure he could taste new tears.


	74. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verity is concerned by the close relationship between Jim and Sebastian.

Jim and Sebastian arrived home hand in hand, Jim looking content, triumphant, and at complete peace, Seb wearing an alien expression that could almost have been happiness. Verity had never seen happiness on Sebastian Moran’s face before, so she couldn’t be certain. 

“This can’t continue,” she snapped, catching them in the hall. Dinner was long since over, the children gone to bed, and she’d been contemplating calling the police, not sure if her two most troublesome charges had decided to make a break for it and run away. She wouldn’t have put it past them. Jim had threatened to do so often enough. 

Spotting their linked hands she took a step back, frowning. 

“What’s this?” she demanded. 

“They’re called hands,” Jim drawled, rolling his eyes and then starting to laugh. He shot Sebastian an odd look and then started to try and drag him away, up the stairs. 

Verity rushed in front of them and blocked the way. She crossed her arms to try and seem imposing. Jim and Sebastian showed her no respect whatsoever, no matter what tone she used or how she stood. Her hair was greying, and she was sure it was mostly down to the pair of teenagers currently glaring at her with mild hatred. They had caused her more trouble over the years than any other children she’d ever had to look after. 

“I could have called the police,” she fumed. “Frank’s been out scouring the neighbourhood. Where have you been? Boys?” 

“It’s none of your business where we’ve been,” Jim declared confidently. “Don’t you have some accounts to be getting on with? Last I heard this place was close to sinking. Such a shame for you, seeing as you work so hard.” 

Verity decided to appeal to the usually more reasonable of the pair. “Sebastian?” 

But instead of grunting an answer, he took a look at Jim, started to smile, then seemed to respond to some unspoken command with a slight nod of his head.

“Tired,” he said. “Going to bed.” 

“This is the last time you do this, boys! I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing, but you can’t just…”

Sebastian shouldered past her, Jim trotting along at his side, hips swaying with confidence. They were still holding hands. Verity frowned and ran a hand through her hair, which was falling loose from her bun. She was more than used to witnessing Jim grabbing at Sebastian and dragging him around by the hand, but she’d never seen them linked so casually before.

Thinking about it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Sebastian smile before either. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Something suspicious was going on with Sebastian and Jim. They remained holed up in their bedroom throughout most days and whenever they emerged they shared smirks and stood close together, whispering and conversing quietly. Sebastian always ended up snorting with amusement while Jim pretended to be an innocent party, a mere bystander with a vaguely disapproving air to him.

Jim could be heard giggling late into the night, followed by hushing noises or grunts to ‘shut up’. Then even later, in the early hours of the morning, there was the definite sound of someone crying. Verity was aware Jim’s mental health was currently tumultuous, and so she assumed the low, indistinguishable muttering was Sebastian attempting to calm him down. Heaven knew he was the only person that Jim seemed to respond to. Jim had been through over fifteen therapists in his time at the home, and a couple had simply refused to work with him any longer because he was so verbally abusive to them.

The boys almost never came home for dinner. Often they’d appear hand in hand, just like the night they’d gone missing. Sometimes Jim would lead the charge, stomping down the hall all the while shouting obscene and dramatic insults over his shoulder at Sebastian, who followed looking weary and irritated and swore under his breath. There were days when Jim turned up with teary eyes and Sebastian wouldn’t let anyone get near him, others when they both appeared laughing and giggling and then all but ran for the bedroom.

They had screaming arguments in the kitchen, Jim throwing various items at Sebastian who ducked and swore and tried to stop him from trashing the place. Sebastian was quite obviously smoking in the bedroom, because their room was starting to smell of cigarette smoke, despite Verity never catching him in the act. On the rare days they did stick around for dinner, Sebastian would suddenly go very red in the face and Verity would spot that one of Jim’s hands was missing under the table. 

Verity was keen that Frank should have a word with Sebastian, to try and ascertain exactly what was happening, but Seb refused to talk to the ginger man with the shiny red nose. 

Eventually, when it became clear one day (after an incident where she had walked into the games room to find Sebastian and Jim locked in a passionate embrace, Jim giggling and writhing, Sebastian backed up against the pool table looking dazed) that this relationship had gone beyond the realms of what Verity deemed acceptable, she called Sebastian into her office for a chat.

“I would remind you that Jim is only fifteen years old,” she said sternly, sipping at her coffee and clicking her biro. 

“I know how old he is,” Sebastian grunted back sulkily. He hadn’t taken kindly to being dragged to see her for a ‘friendly chat’, and he still denied that anything had been happening with Jim. They both declared they’d been having a laugh and meant nothing by it. 

Verity, although strict, was not unintelligent. She thought it was perfectly clear that Jim and Sebastian were now an item. She had seen it a long time ago. They’d been two dangerously codependent little boys that refused to be parted. All this trouble could have been prevented, she thought, if Dawn hadn’t interfered and tried to stop her from sending Sebastian elsewhere. 

“If I get the slightest hint of a sexual relationship happening under this roof, I won’t hesitate to inform the authorities and have them deal with the situation as they see fit,” she warned the handsome blond sitting opposite her with his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“For fuck’s sake…”

“Language,” she warned strictly. “You’re going to be eighteen in September. You’ll be a legal adult.” 

Sebastian glared at her, in a way that reminded her strongly of Jim. 

“Yeah, I know how old I am too, cheers,” he grunted sarcastically.

Verity made a note on her piece of paper and sighed. She’d been considering separating the boys for a while now, just to prevent anything untoward from happening. The last thing she needed when the government were being so strict on the home was another scandal. 

“The shared bedroom is a bad idea,” she stated. 

Sebastian shook his head. 

“Jim needs me.” 

“In what capacity does he need you? Because I’m not given money to provide a space for the pair of you to get up to goodness knows what-“

“We haven’t even fucked!” Seb protested, cutting in indignantly. 

“Good. Because if you had you’d be breaking the law and taking advantage of-“ 

Sebastian stood up and kicked over his chair, chin held high, drawn up to his full and most impressive height. 

“If you separate us, he’ll hurt himself,” Sebastian said quietly, his tone lower and more assertive than Verity was used to. “Do you have any clue what he gets like at night? Do you?” 

“I’m aware he has several mental issues, yes.” 

“Not fucking good enough,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. “If you don’t leave me with him, I’m telling you now, he won’t be around for much longer.”

“We can sort him out adequate care,” Verity responded with an impassive expression on her face. “The psychiatric ward is always an option.”

“Yeah, ‘cause chucking him in the hospital’s really going to sort him out,” Sebastian spat sarcastically. “What he needs is someone who gives a damn. I’m willing to take the job, alright? I don’t touch him. I wouldn’t do anything like that. Yeah, we snog, but nothing else. So unless you want the papers sniffing around here because you’ve had a double suicide, you’ll fucking well keep your nose out and let me deal with him.” 

It was the most Verity had ever heard Sebastian say in one sitting. The blond’s chest was heaving with adrenaline and emotion. 

Double suicide? Was he implying what she thought he was?

“I don’t want anything inappropriate happening in front of the children,” she said briskly, clicking at her pen again, over and over to ease the tension. “It isn’t something I want them seeing.” 

Sebastian laughed then, a sarcastic, threatening sound. He bared his teeth too, she noticed, far more than he needed to or than was natural. It seemed like a warning. 

“Yeah, no fear,” he said roughly. “The kids won’t have to see us being gay around them.”

With that, he picked up the chair he’d previously kicked over, and stalked out of the room with his fists clenched and his head held high.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“What is it?” Jim asked when Sebastian entered the bedroom and slammed the door behind himself. 

Seb told Jim everything. Well, almost everything. He decided not to mention the talk of Jim’s mental health. He didn’t reckon Jim would appreciate that part. 

Seb seemed outraged by the entire situation, but Jim only threw his head back and laughed when Sebastian was finished retelling the story. Jim could tell certain parts had been changed by the look Sebastian got in his eyes as he spoke. He was a terrible liar really, Jim mused. He’d have to teach Sebastian how to guard his eyes a little better the way he could. It would be a valuable life lesson. 

“She’s never understood that gallant streak of yours, has she?” Jim drawled appreciatively. 

He was sprawled across Sebastian’s bed reading a leaflet he’d picked up on a new scientific theory. He preferred Sebastian’s bed to his own. The beds were identical, he knew, but Seb’s had a nice smell to it, and Jim saw it as claiming ownership to choose it rather than his own. 

“What d’you mean?” Seb asked as he paced the room, full of energy. 

Jim rolled his eyes, sighed, and closed his leaflet, placing it on the floor for later. 

“Even a fool could see you wouldn’t fuck me until I was legal,” he informed the blond. 

Seb paused, stopped cracking his knuckles, blue eyes wide and interested. 

“Really?” 

“Seb, even I couldn’t get you to do anything yet. You’re far too noble to ‘deflower’ me. I know your brain, sweetheart. You’d never forgive yourself if we went too far now and I regretted it later on.” 

“I just reckon we should wait until-“ 

“I know, I know,” Jim agreed placatingly. “If it makes you feel better that way, I can wait a few months. But then, I want you.” 

Sebastian nodded his head, savouring those words in Jim’s heavy Dublin accent.

“You’ll have me,” Seb assured him lowly. 

Sebastian got an intense look to his face whenever he was aroused, one that Jim loved to witness. He hopped off the bed and stood up with a yawn and a stretch. Then he pranced over to Sebastian and stood in front of him. 

Jim took both of Sebastian’s large hands and held them, playing with the fingers, a smirk on his face. 

“Have you thought about it much?” he asked quietly, his devious smirk growing by the second. 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically. He loved to have his hands played with, Jim knew. He was sensitive there, and being the sentimental boy he was, he seemed to like the intimacy and the sweetness of the gesture. Seb was an odd combination in that way. He was a true romantic at heart, a knight in shining armour, only he also had a dark side that made Jim weak at the knees.

Jim laughed and then stood on his tiptoes briefly to peck Sebastian’s cheek. 

“You were ever so cautious before,” he commented with interest. “Was it the incest element that put you off?” 

“Not that,” Seb tried to explain, as Jim kissed each of his fingers in turn. “Not exactly. I just… I suppose you’re my only family.”

“I’m your everything,” Jim agreed approvingly, sucking on Sebastian’s thumb and then releasing it with a wet pop and a mock-innocent expression. 

For a moment, Sebastian’s face seemed to go blank, but then he regained his senses. Jim threw back his head again and laughed until his stomach hurt.

Sebastian could have taken offence at that, but damn, did Jim look attractive when he laughed. So Sebastian grinned as well and watched Jim recover himself, tears streaming from his dark eyes. 

When Jim’s outburst was over, he wiped his eyes and sighed with content. He was manic at the moment, but Sebastian didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to believe that this was natural Jim, that this was how happy he could make him. 

“I could have had you when I was twelve,” Jim revealed suddenly, further exposing one of his playful, impulsive moods. “It was that early for me.” 

Seb raised an eyebrow slightly uncertainly. 

“I remember,” Jim drawled, poking Seb in the chest as he spoke. “I remember watching you sleep and thinking I wanted to either smother you with a pillow to preserve your beauty forever and make you mine, or to crawl on top of you and kiss you all over.” 

“Jim,” Sebastian said, slightly reproachfully. Seb didn’t seem to want to link his ‘baby Jim’ to the provocative genius that now lounged across his body whenever he wanted and flirted with him relentlessly. 

“It’s the truth,” Jim insisted. “Stanley grew me up a bit early. Or maybe I was like that to start with? Who knows?” 

Sebastian swallowed and licked his lips. He supposed what happened with Stanley really had messed Jim up. Or was that another lie he told himself to make believe Jim could have been kind and gentle in another alternate reality where events were different? Was that what Sebastian allowed himself to think so that he didn’t weep for eight year old Jim, excitable and giggling and sweet, now ordering deaths and looking at corpses with no trace of emotion whatsoever? 

“Seriously that young?”

“Twelve,” Jim repeated. “Although I think I was in love with you earlier than that. When I was in Dublin everybody teased me and bullied me and hurt me. You were the first person I ever met that didn’t call me names.” 

Jim suddenly let out a laugh. 

“Isn’t that funny?” 

Sebastian didn’t think that was funny at all. He thought it was fucking heartbreaking. But he didn’t say so. 

“Oh, come on,” Jim said, misinterpreting Sebastian’s grimace. “Don’t tell me you didn’t start wanting it at twelve or earlier.” 

Sebastian paused to try and remember. Oddly, his memories of sexual attraction and awakening weren’t particularly clear to him. 

“I never really thought about it,” he admitted. 

“Not true,” Jim corrected him with a poke to the nose. “You stopped yourself from thinking about it because you couldn’t get excited over a pair of boobs but you diiiiiiid get very happy over thinking about a nice thick-“ 

“Jim!” 

Jim chuckled and pouted at Sebastian apologetically. 

“I forgot you’re a blushing virgin,” he drawled, still teasing, despite those large, innocent eyes. “I hope you’re not going to be this coy when it’s time to bear all. That could be a slightly awkward.” 

Sebastian grinned a bit crookedly at that. 

“I won’t be,” he promised. 

“Are you sure you won’t be put off by seeing baby Jim’s ravishing nude beauty?” 

Seb looked a bit taken aback, and then smiled.

“Not a kid anymore,” Seb said firmly. “You’re older than me. In the head, anyway.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jim mused. “Intellectually I outrank you by miles, yes. But you’re very mature and responsible, ‘Bastian. You’ve never been young really, have you?” 

“I have,” Seb argued. 

“No,” Jim insisted firmly. “You’ve been watching over me since I was eight. You’ve never really let go and had a proper childhood.” 

“Yeah, tragic,” Seb said sarcastically, to mask the discomfort that revelation gave him.

“It is tragic,” Jim agreed seriously, leaning in to peck Sebastian on the lips. “Because you deserved to be happy more than anyone in the world. But oh well. Over now. All gone. Poor ‘Bastian.”

Jim took Sebastian by the hand and gave him a pull. 

“I want to go to the office. Are you coming?” 

Sebastian nodded. He went wherever Jim did now.

The teenagers grabbed their jackets and shoes and then headed down the stairs, aiming to sneak out before Verity could catch them. 

“Poor, lovely ‘Bastian,” Jim repeated as they walked down the hall. “Always so serious and old and responsible…”

“Don’t,” Seb warned him. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Feel sorry for me.” 

Jim sighed and stopped walking. He turned to Sebastian and tilted his head to one side as he surveyed him. 

“I don’t feel sorry for you. You got all the beauty,” Jim responded cheekily, switching his mood in a heartbeat. The ponderous, sad expression had long since vanished. In its place was an almost unnerving smirk of intent. 

“You what?” Seb mumbled, feeling like he’d been left behind again. 

“Blue eyes, blond hair, lovely muscles. And that voice, ‘Bastian. You have no idea what it does to me when you get angry.” 

Seb blushed right to his ears. 

“What does it do?” Seb ventured to ask. 

Jim winked at Seb and then kissed him hard, with no care for the fact they were almost directly opposite Verity’s closed office door, backing him into the wall with ease. He’d always been able to control Sebastian, despite their differences in build. Satisfyingly Sebastian yielded under his commands and kissed back with his own brand of raw, desperate hunger. It was almost sweet, Jim later thought. That need for validation. Sebastian loved to be wanted and needed. 

Sebastian rested his hands on Jim’s back and then trailed them over his bum, pulling him in closer. Jim pressed his body right up against Sebastian’s so that there was no space left between them, just to be a tease. 

At that moment a little girl wandered out into the hall. She paused on the spot, mouth gawping open at the sight of big, strong, gentle Sebastian seemingly wrestling with nasty, spiteful Jim. 

Neither of them seemed to notice her presence. 

Sebastian panting heavily, Jim sighing, eventually they drew apart for air. Jim licked his lips and gave the hand still on his bum a hard slap. Seb removed it instantly. 

“That’s what it does to me,” Jim declared as though there’d been no break in the conversation. 

“Oh,” he suddenly added, snapping his fingers in the direction of little Bryony who was still staring at the pair of big boys. “If you want Sebastian to keep reading you stories and fighting off those boys from the local school, you’ll keep that cutesy mouth of yours shut, won’t you, Bryony sweetheart?” 

Sebastian stiffened as he took in the third person standing in the hall. 

“We were just… hugging,” Sebastian muttered, wiping his mouth and changing his posture to hide his obvious arousal. He spotted himself in the hall mirror and thought he’d never looked more desperate for anything. 

“Exactly,” Jim agreed approvingly. “Off you pop, sweetheart. Lips zipped.” 

Bryony looked to Sebastian, who gave her a reassuring smile, and then she nodded, zipping her lips obediently before skipping off.

“Christ,” Sebastian breathed out, smoothing his blond hair. 

“I knew there was a reason I hated children,” Jim commented, turning to his own reflection and examining the bags under his eyes. 

Seb stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms loosely around Jim’s body, admiring their reflections together. Jim’s handsome reflection smiled at him. 

“You’re so sentimental,” he commented with slight amusement. “Look at you. Hands all over your man.”

“We make a good couple, though, don’t we?” Seb said with pride as he looked at them both. 

“Brains and brawn,” Jim agreed. “The height difference is appalling, though. I have to stand on my tiptoes to even reach that lovely mouth of yours.”

“I could bend down?” 

“You’ll do no such thing,” Jim told Seb, turning his head slightly to bite Sebastian’s arm. “I like you tall. Now, hands off, darling. I just remembered I left my notes in the bedroom.” 

Sebastian obediently let his hands drop to his sides. 

“Oh, and Sebby,” Jim declared as he started for the stairs. 

“Yeah?” 

“You might want to deal with your little problem before we escape.” 

“My what?” 

“Or not so little. It certainly didn’t feel little, but I’ve never actually seen, so who knows?” Jim clarified, smirking before prancing up the stairs. Seb definitely heard him laughing as he disappeared.


	75. Eleanor Moran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian visit Eleanor Moran.

“’Bastian, darling, I have a surprise for you. And not a good one, I’m afraid.” 

Seb took off his jacket and draped it over the arm of the sofa. He’d arrived at the office slightly late having been to a careers meeting with one of his teachers. They wanted him to consider taking a degree in English Literature with History at one of the better universities, but he was adamant he’d join the army as soon as he was done with his exams. 

“Yeah? What?” 

Jim glanced over at Sebastian and sighed. 

“Sit down.” 

Sebastian paled. He knew that look. It meant bad news.

“Is it Dawn?” he asked, feeling his heart start to beat. 

“No,” Jim said swiftly, shaking his head. “It’s not as bad as that. But you’ll need to sit down. I mean it. Go on.”

Seb did as he was told, lowering himself warily onto the battered leather sofa. Jim joined him a moment later. Instead of perching in his lap or playfully straddling him, he sat beside Sebastian with his body turned inwards. He reached out to take both of Sebastian’s large hands in his own. Jim being kind like this set off alarm bells in Seb’s head straight away. 

“What?” he demanded breathlessly, tone harsh with worry. 

“Your Father’s about to finish his sentence,” Jim revealed softly. 

“He’s coming out of prison?” 

“Yes. In a month.” 

“But they said-“ 

“He’s a clever man,” Jim explained. “They reward good behavior. He’s obviously done his best to get himself freed early.” 

Seb fell silent. Jim traced the lines on his palms tenderly, grounding him. 

“I don’t know what he’ll do when he’s out,” Jim continued quietly. “But it’s possible he’ll try to contact you.” 

“No.”

Sebastian was confused by his own harsh and immediate reaction. Why was this his first instinct? This was Father. His Father. Brave and strong. A soldier. An inspiration. Seb had spent most of his time in care longing for his Father to return, to judge him worthy and pluck him from this place where he didn’t belong. He often dreamed of his Father arriving on the doorstep and barking insults at Verity before sweeping Sebastian away, explaining it had all been a misunderstanding. And with his own version of events told, everything would become clear in Sebastian’s mind, and they could return home and be a proper family. No harm done…

So why had his mind and body just experienced such a feeling of pure, absolute horror, hatred, fear, and revulsion? 

“He’s going home to your mother, I assume,” Jim said. “She’s still in London.” 

“Did he hurt her?” Seb grunted out. Somehow he’d never asked. There were dreams and fragments of memories of purple bruises blossoming on a pretty face, but that was just his imagination, wasn’t it? It couldn’t be real. 

Only he knew that it was and he’d only chosen to forget. There were a lot of things he’d hidden away because they were too painful.

“Yes,” Jim admitted with a small nod. “He was charged with domestic violence. Your mother is on the hospital records quite a few times. Fell down the stairs, walked into a cabinet, slipped over on the kitchen tiles…” 

Sebastian’s body stiffened with agony.

“Why’re you telling me?” he grunted.

“Because I have her address here,” Jim explained quietly.

“You want me to see her?” 

Jim gave a small smile of pity.

“Darling, I don’t care either way. I just know you very well, and I think you’ll regret it later if you don’t talk to her.” 

Sebastian took a few deep breaths and ignored his strong urge to hit something. It was only the way Jim was playing with his palms and fingers that was stopping him from clenching them into fists and punching the wall until his knuckles bled. Jim always knew how to keep him calm. 

“If she was your mum?” Sebastian half panted, looking anguished.

“Sebby,” Jim said softly, kissing Sebastian’s palms. “You know the answer to that already.” 

He did. Jim wouldn’t have done a thing. Jim would quite happily have seen his mother run down by a bus, probably would have laughed at the sight of her mangled body.

“Don’t want to see her,” Seb grunted out firmly.

Jim nodded his head. 

“Okay, darling.”

And he left it at that. He didn’t attempt to persuade him to change his mind, or even try to make him feel guilty. Jim merely gave Seb a kiss on the cheek and returned to his desk to work. Feeling slightly nauseous, Sebastian grabbed his own school bag and started to work on an essay draft. But all he could think about was his mother. 

What would she be like? Why hadn’t she ever contacted him? What sort of a person could leave a kid all alone like that?

It was twenty minutes later when Seb put down his pen. He’d barely written anything and he kept on making mistakes because his mind was elsewhere. 

“Jim?” 

“Hm?”

Jim was still scrawling something down. 

“I do want to,” Seb said firmly. 

Again, Jim didn’t try to make him feel anything at all. He didn’t even look up from his page. 

“Okay, darling. I’ll sort something out.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Seb didn’t know what to wear. 

“Grey hoodie and dark jeans,” Jim advised him, stroking his hip as he passed, toothbrush in his mouth. 

Seb did as he was told and pulled the items on. He needed his orders this morning and Jim knew that. He could see that Jim was keeping an extra special eye on him as he went about his morning routine. He kept flitting back into the bedroom to check on him, to touch him briefly, to catch his eyes and remind him to breathe.

“Toast,” Jim announced as they sat in the kitchen together. He plucked the toast from the toaster with his pale fingertips and plopped it onto a plate, sliding it to Sebastian. 

“Can’t,” Seb mumbled, staring at the food. 

“Of course you can. You always can. Eat.” 

So Seb did. When he was done he wiped his fingers on his jeans and earned a tut from Jim, although Jim took the plate and placed it in the sink. He’d only touched a cup of tea all morning, but then, he’d never been big on breakfast unless it involved chocolate of some sort. Verity’s budget wasn’t currently stretching to pop-tarts, which meant Jim was skipping breakfast almost every day.

One of the little girls, Cassie, who was arm in arm with Bryony, skipped into the kitchen and presented Sebastian with a picture. Jim noticed that Sebastian was still able to accept it with a fake smile and thank her for it. 

“I’ll take that for him, shall I?” Jim said, swiftly taking the picture from Sebastian’s hands. 

“Is Sebastian feeling sick?” Cassie asked, her green eyes wide with worry. Cassie and Bryony had taken a particular shine to Sebastian, and so far despite Byrony having witnessed Seb and Jim snogging in the hall, she’d kept quiet about it. So Jim was inclined to be a little more considerate to the girls than usual. 

“Is he going to die?” Bryony added, pushing her glasses back on her nose and staring at Seb. 

“Why do you ask?” Jim drawled. 

The girls were a bit frightened of nasty Jim who liked to shout and scream and throw things when he was cross, but they didn’t mind him when he was with Sebastian.

“His face is grey like a gravestone,” Cassie announced dramatically.

Jim laughed at that and raised an eyebrow at Sebastian, who was still looking a bit out of it and kept staring at his watch. Usually, he would have grinned at a comment like that, Jim knew. 

“Very nice, Cassandra,” Jim praised. “You can use that one in your next creative writing piece, can’t you, Sebby darling?” 

Seb grunted something that showed he wasn’t really listening.

When it got to eight, Jim nodded at Sebastian, who stood up and took a deep breath. 

“And who can tell me what that little statement Cassie used was?” Jim asked the girls as he brushed down his suit and fixed his hair. 

They looked confused as they nibbled at their own pieces of toast. 

“Simile,” Seb managed to say. “It’s when you say something is like something else. Hungry like a pig. Bright like the sun. Quiet as a mouse.”

“Pretty like a princess?” Cassie asked. 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed, turning on his gentle smile. “See if you can remember that one in school. Bet your teacher’ll be chuffed.” 

Jim led Sebastian away, leaving the two little girls chattering and whispering about how handsome Sebastian was and how that was the nicest Jim had ever, ever, ever been to them.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The Moran family home was large and posh. It wasn’t particularly far from the home, but the difference in the neighbourhoods was striking. Here, the roads were clean, free of chewing gum and rubbish and needles from drug addicts. The houses were all smart and well painted and people walked past with pampered little dogs on leads. 

The boys stopped outside and paused for a moment. Jim was quite impressed by the home Sebastian might have grown up in had his life turned out differently. It was certainly the opposite of his own childhood home, the scummy council estate in Dublin that always smelled funny.

The weather was warm and summery, but for once, Sebastian seemed cold. He’d gone rigid in his anxiety, which was unusual for him. Most of the time, Sebastian was ready to start running or climbing at a pinch, but today he just seemed lost.

“Look at me,” Jim instructed the blond. Sebastian did so instantly. 

Jim smoothed Sebastian’s hair, inspected his face, patted his shoulders, and then nodded. 

“Good boy.”

“Do I look alright?” Seb mumbled. 

“Handsome,” Jim informed him. “You look very handsome indeed. There’s no way she could be disappointed with that facial structure.” 

Seb tried a grin. It ended up as more of a pained grimace.

“I love you,” Jim told Sebastian quietly, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go. “If she turns out to be awful, we’ll just leave, okay? We’ll go to the park and you can let off some stream and I can feed the pigeons. Just like always.”

Sebastian nodded. He had to be brave now. But Christ, did he feel nervous.

Jim stepped up to the black front door and knocked three times, confidently, in his usual rhythm. Sebastian stood on the step behind him so they seemed more similar in height than usual. 

Eleanor Moran put down her glass of water and frowned at the door. She hardly ever had visitors now. Her friends had long since disappeared after the scandal that took away both her son and her husband, even though that had occurred years ago. It seemed a stain like that couldn’t be washed away. The family name was sullied for good. 

Fixing her blonde hair neatly, Eleanor walked down the hallway, her heels clicking quietly on the wooden floor. She prepared herself to face whoever it was, ready to tell them politely but firmly to leave. 

She didn’t enjoy the company of others now.

Sighing, she unlocked the door and pulled it open, careful not to ruin her nails in the process.

There were two teenagers on her doorstep. No, a young man and a teenager. 

One was Sebastian, her son, with the exact same jaw and blue eyes as his father. The other, Eleanor didn’t recognise. He was slender and pale and had eyes that were clever and sharp. 

“Eleanor Moran?” the small teen asked. He was Irish, softly spoken and yet brisk. 

“Yes…yes, that’s me,” she said. She was visibly taken aback, although she recovered herself quickly. Her voice was soft for a mere moment before it turned steely. “Sebastian?” 

Her son seemed to be resisting the urge to run from the scene. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and sniffed. His companion was very still however, and wore a confident expression.

“Hasn’t he grown?” the Irish boy put in mockingly. Eleanor instantly disliked him. Her brown eyes narrowed.

“But why are you… why are you here? Why now?” 

“May we come in?” Jim asked, already starting to step into Eleanor’s home.

Eleanor didn’t want the neighbours to see this, the small teenager in the sharp suit and the other, her son, in a scruffy hoodie and jeans, looking rather like a chav. 

She moved back so the boys could come inside, and then closed the door behind them. 

“Who are you?” she asked the Irish boy accusingly. It was easier to direct her words to him, a stranger, than the handsome teen with her husband’s face and the weary blue eyes. 

“A friend of your son’s.” 

“He’s Jim,” Sebastian said. It was the first time he’d spoken. His voice was low and rough with a common edge that showed nothing of his birth family, more a reflection of the area he’d grown up in. The tone was unrefined, although as it was so deep, it wasn’t completely repulsive. All Eleanor could think of was the posh, laughing, chubby little blond baby that had sat on her knee and dribbled, and chewed his own foot, the robust toddler who’d spoken well and been taught to enunciate clearly…

“Mummy, I’m going to be a…a…a soldier and fire a gun and… and… and I want to have a special uniform like Father does! The one with the…is it badges? For being brave? That’s what I want, Mummy. And all the people will have to call me ‘sir’ and I can have camo…is it camouflage? I can have camouflage trousers so nobody can see me, then when I run out I’ll surprise them all! And then I’ll get a prize… and then Father will be happy. Won’t he? ‘Cause I’m a good boy!”

She remembered a little boy that cuddled up to her when Augustus was drinking and getting frightening, a little boy that always tried his best not to cry, although he often did, curled up against her breasts. She remembered frightened eyes and a trembling lower lip and the way his little heart had beaten so fast as Augustus shouted.

But everything was different now. 

Eleanor showed the boys into her main living room. It was expensively decorated, paintings on the walls, the colour scheme exact, everything matching, flowers in vases on the surfaces. It smelled fresh and clean. Although not homely. It wasn’t a place in which a person could relax. Sebastian felt suddenly worried that he might contaminate it in some way, get mud on the carpet or end up otherwise ruining the posh furniture. 

“Please, sit down,” she said, gesturing at the chairs. Her hand was pale and thin, nails sharp and painted with clear gloss. She wore a tasteful wedding ring and several simple silver bracelets.

Her son looked to Jim, who nodded at him. Then he sat, looking nervous. He held his hands together between his legs and kept glancing around then lowering his head again. 

“Why are you here?” Eleanor asked in a cold voice. Her legs were crossed and her back was dead straight. 

“Your husband is coming home,” the boy, Jim, answered easily. She noticed that Jim looked far more relaxed than her son. He’d settled back quite comfortably and he certainly wasn’t afraid to look her in the eyes the way Sebastian was. 

“He’s served his time,” she said instantly. She sounded like she was reciting something she knew by heart.

“Some might argue the sentence wasn’t quite harsh enough,” Jim commented conversationally. “But that’s not what we’re here for. Aren’t you going to talk to your son?” 

Eleanor’s brown eyes found Sebastian again. 

“How are you?” she asked stiffly. 

Jim started to laugh at that. That only put her further on edge. 

“’M fine,” Sebastian managed to say, raising his head with effort. He kept on glancing at Jim for support and guidance “It’s been… it’s been a while.” 

“A very long while,” Jim agreed, nodding his head. “No contact whatsoever. I wonder what stopped you from picking up the phone or writing a note?” 

He hummed as Eleanor shifted uncomfortably and Sebastian pinched his own thumbs.

“I’m sure Sebastian would like to know why you didn’t bother to contact him after he’d been placed in care,” Jim said when it became clear neither of the two Morans were going to speak. 

Eleanor’s eyes flashed with outrage, but she bit that back. She composed herself, took a breath, and calmly placed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. 

“That’s between me and my son.” 

“Would you rather I left?” Jim offered. 

“No,” Sebastian said quickly, turning to Jim with desperation in his expression. It seemed almost like he was pleading. Eleanor watched the interaction and made a silent observation. 

“I never wanted them to take you away, Sebastian,” Eleanor managed to say stiffly. Her tone was polite, but icy cold. “It wasn’t my decision to send you to that place.” 

Sebastian swallowed and shrugged, unable to speak. 

“Were you unhappy there?” Eleanor asked quietly.

“No,” Sebastian mumbled. “Was for a bit. But then I had Dawn, and then Jim showed up.” 

Eleanor didn’t even ask who Dawn was. She didn’t seem to care. 

“You look like your Father,” Eleanor said eventually, when the silence became too much to bear. 

“Dunno,” Seb admitted gruffly. One of his legs was twitching with nerves. “I only have one photograph of him. The one from the army.” 

Another silence. 

“Why didn’t you visit me, Eleanor… I mean, Mum?” Sebastian asked, sounding so deeply pained that Jim longed to kiss him, to make him forget all that sadness. “I thought you might… I mean, did I do something wrong?”

Eleanor paused and smoothed her skirt down over her slender legs. 

“I thought it was best you had a new start,” she answered indifferently. 

“Well,” Jim cut in, when the atmosphere had become so uncomfortable that even he was starting to feel ruffled by it. Sebastian was pinching his thumbs so hard he was almost drawing blood, and Eleanor could have been made of stone for all the emotion she was showing. “I could do with a cup of tea.”

“Of course,” she said courteously. She went to stand up, but Jim shook his head. 

“Sebastian, do you think you could put the kettle on?” Jim asked.

Seb looked to his mother. 

“Yes,” she agreed. “The tea set should be on the shelf above the kettle. It’s the first door down the hall.”

Glad to have an order to follow, a task to complete, no matter how small and mundane, Sebastian got to his feet and shuffled off looking nauseous. 

Jim was left alone with Eleanor Moran. 

He watched her intently, reading her. Already he thought he’d got the measure of her. Despite presenting herself as stony and curt, he could see through her in the same way he could see through her son. 

Funny really, Jim mused. She was more intelligent than either of his own parents had been. She quite clearly thought before she spoke, and her brown eyes were observant and quick. Then again, Jim supposed living with an abusive husband was bound to make even the most settled person jumpy and wary. People had to adapt, he mused, and Eleanor Moran had. 

She was slender and she was slight, nothing like Sebastian in that respect. Her legs were thin and she wore a pair of high heels, a designer make, although not overly high and quite tasteful. Her eyebrows were thin, pale, and barely there, her nose small and straight. She was attractive, Jim mused, certainly, but so cold and distant that she seemed almost inhuman. More a painting than a real woman. In that way she differed wildly from her son, who could radiate kindness and gentleness and anger and disgust. Her hair was soft and blonde and smelled flowery and clean. It fell down to her shoulders and curled slightly at the ends. She looked like she spent a lot of time on her appearance. 

Eleanor noticed Jim staring, and her large brown eyes found his own. They were startlingly similar to his in shape, although hers were a shade lighter and rimmed with a sweep of neat eyeliner. 

“You think I’m a terrible person,” she commented. Her face remained impassive. 

“I think,” Jim said slowly. “That you’re not to blame in the way that your husband is. But you could have done more.”

“You’re just a boy,” Eleanor told Jim coldly. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Oh, I don’t claim to understand,” Jim said with slight amusement. “But I’m curious. I wonder how you could have chosen your husband over your son.”

Eleanor shifted uncomfortably and then fixed one of her dangling earrings.

“My husband changed after his experiences in the military,” she said stiffly. “But I made a vow to stay loyal to him.”

“No loyalty to your only son?” Jim asked. 

“Sebastian was young. He was resilient. Children bounce back. I never expected Augustus to…”

She trailed off, although she didn’t start sobbing or show any other outward sign of misery. Jim could still sense the heavy weight on her shoulders. She took a breath and raised her head on a slender, stalk-like neck. 

“When I called the ambulance, I made a choice,” she stated calmly, although her eyes were sharp and accusatory, defensive. “I found my son wailing on the kitchen floor, my husband drunk to the point of almost passing out. Sebastian was… injured.” 

“Abused,” Jim corrected her. “His back was torn open. He’d been beaten. He was four.”

Eleanor swallowed, a mannerism Sebastian did share. 

“What Augustus saw while in the military stole my husband from me. The army took him away. He was a proud man and refused to visit a doctor, even though I tried to make him see sense. So he drank, to stop the nightmares. But the drink only made him worse. It made him do things my husband would never have contemplated…”

Jim was interested by this tale. He sat forwards with a hum.

“And he wasn’t abusive at all before Sebastian was born?”

“Never,” Eleanor said firmly, almost proudly. “Not once. He was gentle. He was gentle.” 

“He was violent,” Jim corrected her. 

Eleanor caught Jim’s eyes, deep brown meeting even deeper. 

“You don’t believe a person can be both of those things?” she asked him with something like cold fire behind her eyes. 

Yes, she was perceptive, Jim thought. Very perceptive. He almost admired her. Almost. 

“But you’re not here to reunite me with my son. You’re interested in my absent husband,” Eleanor said swiftly, a false smile on her lips that made it clear she was used to socialising and acting a part. The experiences she’d lived through had made her hard. It was self-preservation. Jim wondered if he’d met with Eleanor Moran before the abuse, if she’d have shown more similarities to her son, more natural warmth. 

“Not so absent soon,” Jim said calmly. “He’s only got a month left to serve, and then he’ll be back.” 

Eleanor looked momentarily taken aback that Jim was aware of that piece of information. 

“I read his file,” Jim continued. “What are you going to do?” 

“I’m going to welcome him home,” she said, her voice tight, neck seeming to strain with the pain of those words. 

Jim sighed heavily. That wasn’t the answer he’d wanted, but he wasn’t surprised. 

“My own mother is dead,” Jim told her, changing his tone, leaning back in the flowery armchair. “She killed herself. Jumped into the Thames, at least, that’s where they found her. Washed up on the banks.” 

“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said stiffly. 

“No, you’re not,” Jim responded. “But that hardly matters. I never cared for my mother. She was religious, more so than you, despite that chain you wear around your neck. She never gave me what I needed.” 

Eleanor clutched at the small silver cross around her neck slightly protectively.

“Which was?” 

Jim ignored the question. “Sebastian is not me. Sebastian cares about people. Certain people. And you, as genetics would have it, have made your way onto his list.” 

“I don’t follow,” Eleanor said, shaking her pretty head. 

“I have contacts. Sebastian and I, we know people. We could get you a brand new identity.”

“And why would I need that?” she asked suspiciously. 

Jim smirked, unable to help himself. 

“There’s only one way for this to end,” he informed her calmly. “You know that.”

“You’re children,” Eleanor scoffed. “This may be a fun game for you, but this is my life.” 

“You’ve seen Sebastian, does he look like a child to you?” Jim responded in an instant. “He’s seventeen years old, just. Eighteen soon. You left him to fend for himself, Eleanor Moran. You were his mother and you left him. We didn’t all grow up in the Surrey countryside with our wealthy family and marry an eligible bachelor. Some of us are self-made.” 

“Self-made?” 

Jim ignored her question once again. 

“If your husband comes home, he will hurt you. Or someone might just happen to hurt him. Who do you suppose might be suspected of a crime against Augustus?”

“You think you can come to my home and threaten me?” Eleanor asked with a disbelieving scoff of a laugh that came from low in her throat. 

“Do you think I care if you get beaten to death?” Jim asked seriously.

Eleanor swept her eyes over him. 

“No,” she admitted. 

“You would be right. But I care about your son. I don’t want his mother to end up on a slab. Or worse, in prison for a crime she didn’t commit. Consider my offer.” 

Eleanor fixed her hair again and thought for a moment. She remained impassive for a long while. 

“You’re sleeping with my son,” Eleanor said suddenly. It was a statement, not a question. Her tone gave nothing away. 

“Yes, and no,” Jim agreed. He wasn’t afraid to admit it to Eleanor Moran. In fact, a part of him was proud. “We share a bed, but as I’m under the age of consent, Sebastian has nobly refused every single sexual advance I’ve made.” 

“Sebastian’s gay?” 

Jim nodded solemnly.

“He is. Does that bother you?” 

Eleanor looked offended. It was the exact same look Sebastian gave him sometimes, when Jim underestimated his intelligence. It almost shocked Jim. Eleanor’s face had quite suddenly come to life.

“Of course it doesn’t,” she practically hissed. “He’s my son.” 

Jim smirked and hummed to himself. Yes, Eleanor Moran was a very intriguing woman indeed. 

“You’re relatively intelligent,” Jim praised. “That’s where he gets it from, then. Good to know. Although, your shrewdness and survival instincts combined with your husband’s association with the military have created a very deadly cocktail indeed. Add a phobia of abandonment, desperation to belong, a fear of failure and, well…” 

Eleanor looked lost. But how could she understand? She didn’t know her son. She didn’t know his ambitions or his personality. Not anything. 

“How old are you?” she asked stiffly.

“Fifteen.” 

“And you’re from care too?”

“I am.” 

“How long have you known my son?” 

“Since I was eight. I was flown over here from Dublin, something of a last desperate attempt to keep me from killing myself or somebody else. I’m mentally ill, although I wasn’t physically abused the way Sebastian was. Mine seems to have come naturally.” 

Eleanor watched him beadily. 

“He looked after me,” Jim revealed, feeling he somehow owed this odd, hard woman something. “He stopped me from hurting myself, still does. He was like the brother I never had, until things got a bit beyond brotherly, of course. You should know that your son is a good person.”

Eleanor nodded. It was the closest she had come to showing any positive emotion, but it still wasn’t much. 

“Was he happy?” 

“No,” Jim answered honestly. “Sebastian is a lot of things, but happy is not one of them. He’s intelligent, brave, loyal, compassionate, often violent, grumpy, sarcastic, but happy? No, no, no, no. Not happy. Hardly ever.” 

Eleanor let out a breath and shook her head, the fake smile returning for a moment. “You’re a strange boy,” she said coldly. “You don’t talk like a fifteen year old.” 

“No, I’m a genius,” Jim admitted. 

“Sebastian loves you.” 

“With all his heart, yes,” Jim agreed with a nod of his head. 

Eleanor thought on that for a while. She smoothed her dress over her legs again. 

“He’s taking a while with the tea,” she commented.

“I think he’s probably composing himself and taking some deep breaths,” Jim informed her. “He’s sensitive sometimes, you see.” 

Another silence. Eleanor seemed on the brink of saying something, although she was fighting her words. 

“It’s funny,” Eleanor said suddenly, as though the words were bursting out of her composed body. “You see me as weak.” 

Jim sat back in his chair again, surveying the woman. She wasn’t his intellectual equal, but she was more intelligent than most he ever conversed with. It certainly explained where Sebastian got his brains from, although Eleanor was quite frankly wasted as a housewife.

“I see you as a woman who made the best of what she had, who fell in love with a man she couldn’t control, who remained loyal to him in spite of his failings, who did her best to protect both her son and her husband, no matter the cost. I see someone devoted, I see someone strong, I see someone very skilled at surviving. Someone very good at making excuses for someone they love.”

Eleanor blinked uncertainly at Jim. She felt as though her chest had been ripped open, as though she was naked before this strange, Irish boyfriend of Sebastian’s. How could her son be in love with a boy like that?

“Have you considered a career in therapy,” she quipped icily. 

“You’re actually quite similar to your son in some ways,” Jim continued to muse. 

He stood suddenly and brushed down his suit with his hands. “Excuse me, I think I’ll go and check on Sebastian. He has been a while.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim found Sebastian sitting on the kitchen floor looking dazed, head in his hands. 

He didn’t comment on it. Instead, he got the tea ready, found a biscuit tin, arranged the biscuits neatly on a plate, and then placed the tray on the kitchen table. 

“We won’t stay long,” Jim decreed. “Say what you need to say, and we can make a move.” 

“She doesn’t care,” Sebastian grunted out. 

Jim sighed and crouched down to Sebastian’s level. He played with his hair and kissed him on the cheek. 

“She does,” he whispered comfortingly. “She’s just feeling guilty. Come on, ‘Bastian darling. Pull yourself together. Be brave.” 

Seb sniffed and nodded. He got to his feet and took some deep breaths. He was unused to feeling so many emotions at once, and the memories his old family home awoke in him were threatening to shatter him from the inside. This could have been his life. He could have been happy… 

No, he reminded himself. Because there’d be no Jim. And what was all the money and family in the world if he didn’t have Jim by his side?

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They only stayed for fifteen minutes of polite and excruciating conversation. At the end of it Sebastian felt no closer to the woman that had given birth to him. He was glad Jim was there to keep the talking going, because he didn’t know what to say to Eleanor.  


He didn’t love her, he realised. And he’d thought he would. He’d thought they’d perhaps embrace or exchange tender words, that she might apologise to him sincerely or explain things. But she sat neatly, cold and stiff and unfriendly.

When they left, Eleanor didn’t hug him or kiss him. She stood up politely and thanked them for coming, although her eyes seemed dead. She wanted them gone, Seb could tell.

“I love you,” Jim reminded Sebastian once again as soon as the door had clicked shut behind them. 

Jim took Sebastian’s hand and held it tight as he led him to the bus stop. Seb seemed dazed by what had happened, numb.

“Neither of them wanted me,” Sebastian found himself saying. His voice was hoarse with grief. “Jim…”

“Your mother wanted you,” Jim assured him softly. “But you weren’t the only one that he hurt. Don’t be too cross with her, ‘Bastian. She’s more like you than you know.”


	76. Sebastian's Eighteenth Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian turns eighteen and Jim has a special present planned for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of abuse, cutting.

It was Sebastian’s eighteenth birthday, making him an adult, officially. He’d just started his final year of Sixth Form and was expected to attain top grades in all of his A-levels. With a September birthday, he was the oldest in his year group, the first to reach adulthood. 

Jim woke him up by kissing along his neck, ghosting his lips over Sebastian’s Adam’s apple, then nuzzling his nose against Seb’s strong jaw. 

He’d fallen asleep in Sebastian’s arms the previous night. He vaguely remembered having a shaking and crying fit, but that could have been imagined. His mind did strange things to him at night, and often he simply chose to forget. All he knew was that when he heard voices or couldn’t stop thinking or wanted to hurt himself, Sebastian was right beside him, trying to keep him from harm. Jim didn’t like to think about that. It made him feel like a burden. And he didn’t want pity. Not from anyone.

But this morning wasn’t a morning of relaxation. It was a milestone. A celebratory day. And Jim had the perfect present to finally break Sebastian free of the chains of his childhood and make him a brand new man. 

“Wake up,” Jim commanded, dragging his teeth over Sebastian’s stubbly neck. “Up, up, up. Now.” 

Sebastian grunted, responding to Jim’s voice, and then forced his eyes open with a yawn. 

“Mornin’,” Sebastian mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He ran a hand over Jim’s back and stoked his fingertips along his jutting spine. He looked ready to plant a kiss on his forehead and affectionately hold him for a few more lazy minutes. 

But Jim had no time for sweet pleasantries. He had a job to do. 

“Do you want him dead?” he asked clearly, pressing a soft kiss to Sebastian’s jaw. 

“Do I want what?” Seb asked tiredly. 

“Woe, destruction, ruin and decay; The worst is death, and death will have his day,” Jim recited firmly. 

Sebastian frowned, but couldn’t stop his reflex reaction of identifying the Shakespeare play Jim had quoted. 

“Richard II,” he mumbled. “Who are we killing?” 

Jim sighed and extracted himself from Sebastian, slapping away his tender hands. He sat atop his hips, pinning him down with his own hands on Seb’s broad shoulders, letting his nails dig into the skin.

“Think,” he commanded. 

Sebastian looked up into those dark eyes and felt his heart sink. A wave of nausea flooded his body as he caught on, quick as always. 

“Jim-“ he protested weakly, shaking his head. 

“Don’t ‘Jim’ me,” Jim hissed, suddenly violent in his words and gestures. “This is it. Don’t be a coward now, sweetheart. It was always leading here.”

Sebastian blinked up at him. He was still exhausted having spent half the night soothing Jim out of one of his episodes. His head hurt and his chest ached. He hadn’t been expecting a morning like this.

He moved his palms to Jim’s knees, which were on either side of him, and stroked them gently, trying to bring him back. He loved Jim always, no matter what mood he was in, no matter what he did, but Seb wasn’t sure he liked him when he was wild like this. 

“We can’t,” Seb said quietly. 

“We can and we will,” Jim corrected him, reaching up one hand to brush Sebastian’s messy bed hair away from his face. Jim wasn’t sure his hair could really be called blond for much longer. It was darkening with age, and was now streaked with light brown. Jim remembered the first time he’d seen Sebastian, when the tone was so gorgeously angelic and innocent, not quite white-blond, but striking to look at. Still, people changed as they grew. He certainly had. “This is my gift to you on your special day. It’s your present. Don’t be ungrateful.”

“I don’t want you to,” Sebastian found himself saying weakly. 

With that comment, Jim slapped him across the face, hard, and slid off his body, attempting to drag him out of bed and to his feet. 

“Jim-“ 

“Up,” Jim commanded firmly.

Sebastian had no choice but to drag his tired, aching limbs out of the sheets and stand to attention. But instead of examining him with great scrutiny as Jim often did in these moods, the nearly-sixteen year old grabbed Seb’s sleeping shirt and started to haul him towards the bedroom door and out into the hall. As they passed the bedroom shelf, Jim reached out to snatch up his hand mirror. 

The hand mirror was the way Jim always checked the back of his hair to make sure no bits were left sticking up. Sebastian seemed to appreciate his ‘just woken up’ look, but Jim thought it made him look childish and soppy and soft, so he refused to show his face in public without his hair perfectly gelled and combed. 

But Jim didn’t seem in the mood to tame his hair. Sebastian swallowed and allowed himself to be dragged to the bathroom. 

Sebastian didn’t want to think about what this meant. 

“Come here,” Jim instructed, opening the door and pushing him inside. 

“Jim-“ 

“Now.” 

Jim locked the bathroom door behind them and physically shoved Sebastian in front of the mirror on the wall opposite the shower. 

“What are you-“

“Shirt off,” Jim ordered. 

Sebastian felt his body go completely stiff, paralysed with horror. He knew what was going to happen next, and he didn’t want it. 

“No, Jim.” 

“Off, now.” 

“Jim, I…” 

“Off!” Jim shrieked. 

Jim began to pull and tear at the item of clothing madly. Seb had no option but to yank the shirt over his head and discard it on the bathroom floor. 

“I don’t get what you’re-“ 

“Look at them,” Jim commanded as he positioned Sebastian. He spun his body around so his scarred back was to the main mirror. Then Jim opened his hand mirror, rubbed it on his own shirt to clean it, and held it up in Sebastian’s eye line. 

Sebastian paled and then set his jaw defiantly as he caught a glimpse of those foul scars.

“No,” he protested, shaking his head. 

“Look at them,” Jim repeated.

“I don’t want to fucking well-“ 

“You’ll look at them, Sebastian, or I promise you, sweetheart, you’ll be sorry.” 

“Please,” Seb mumbled. But Jim only shook his head. He wasn’t feeling merciful today. 

Sebastian tried not to look at his scars. Whenever he went swimming he kept his shirt on, and whenever he went for a run he did the same, even if the item of clothing became soaked with sweat. The marks made him feel physically sick. They made him feel broken. They reminded him what a failure of a son he’d been. His Father must have truly hated him.

“Can’t see them properly anyway,” Sebastian lied. 

Jim adjusted the hand mirror he now held, making sure Sebastian could get a good, clear view of the fading scars marring his lovely tanned back.

“What do you see?” he asked curiously. 

“Scars.” 

“And what do you think when you see them?” 

Sebastian swallowed. 

“Ugly.” 

“No,” Jim corrected him impatiently. “What you should be seeing is ownership. You should be seeing pain. That’s what he did to you. He did this to you when you were just a child, and now he still owns you.”

Sebastian didn’t attempt to deny the truth of that. 

“Stop,” he said quietly, instead. “Please.” 

But Jim didn’t listen. He touched one of Sebastian’s larger scars, one that had healed over lumpy and pale. 

“I expect you cried and begged for him to stop. You probably apologised and promised to do better in future, knowing you. But he didn’t stop. He beat you black and blue and cut you until you were bloody.” 

“Please.” Seb’s voice was a whisper. 

“Look at them!” Jim shouted, apparently not caring that it was early in the morning and the little ones were still asleep. He slapped Sebastian on the back of the head until the blond did as he was commanded. “How do you feel?” 

“Like shit,” Sebastian breathed out. 

“Because of him,” Jim emphasised. Seb could see his eyes were wild and fierce and manic in the reflection. “He carved you up and broke you and you let him.” 

“I never-“ 

“Hush,” Jim commanded. “You let him get you once, but now it’s time to prove you’re better. All you have to do is say ‘yes.’” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can, and you will,” Jim said firmly. 

“How?” Sebastian asked lowly. “How will you do it?” 

“I want him beaten and cut, the same as he did to you. I have men willing to do it. They know exactly what I want to happen. It’s soooooooo simple.” 

Sebastian looked so incredibly distressed that for a moment Jim feared he might pass out. But he stood his ground silently, saying nothing, eyes heavy with sadness and a paralysing need to be loyal, only he didn’t know who he was supposed to be loyal to.

“Look at me,” Jim ordered. 

Seb did as he was told. He was glad of the distraction. He didn’t want to see his scars anymore. 

Jim cupped his cheeks tenderly and whispered against Sebastian’s lips. 

“I can’t let him live,” he explained gently. “Don’t you see that? You’re mine now, and he hurt you. We have to erase everything so you’re new and fresh for me to paint on. I need a blank canvas, sweetheart. It’s the only way.” 

“Wasn’t yours when he did it,” Sebastian managed to mumble out.

“Not true,” Jim told him, tutting and kissing his lips softly. “You’ve always been mine, you just didn’t know it and neither did I. He had no right to ruin you for me. You’re all broken now, and the only way he can fix it is to pay with his own life.” 

They were interrupted by a series of frantic knocks on the bathroom door. 

“Boys?” Verity called in. “What have I told you about using the bathroom together? You’re not to lock this door. Open it right now.”

“Go away!” Jim called back, not taking his eyes away from Sebastian’s. 

“What are you doing?” 

Jim sighed and pecked Sebastian’s lips again. 

“I’m sucking Sebastian off, what do you think?” he announced sarcastically. 

“I’ll get Frank to open the door, I’m warning you!” Verity shouted. 

With a roll of his eyes, Jim released Sebastian and sashayed towards the door, unlocking it with a click. He opened it and stood face to face with Verity.

“What?” he demanded, as though somebody had knocked on the door of his home. His expression was one of great irritation. 

“You know the rules, you don’t lock yourselves in. I already let you share a bedroom.” 

“Sebastian,” Jim called back to the blond who was now pulling on his shirt swiftly. “Were we shagging?” 

“No,” Seb grunted, checking his reflection in the mirror briefly, still feeling dazed. Then he went to stand behind Jim. He needed Jim now. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone. 

“Are you going to shag me before I’m sixteen?” Jim demanded. 

“No,” Seb grunted again. 

Jim nodded his head at Verity. “There you go. He’s a good boy who respects the age of consent. If we were going to have sex, we wouldn’t do it in the bathroom. That’s vile,” Jim added with a grimace. “What do you take us for?” 

Verity glanced accusingly at Sebastian, as though this was his fault. 

“You don’t lock yourselves in,” she told him, appealing to the boy that was clearly not manic and dancing precariously on the knife-edge of a stormy black mood.

“It’s his birthday,” Jim sang. “Aren’t you going to wish him many happy returns? Hm? He’s a big boy now.” 

“Happy birthday, Sebastian,” Verity said wearily. “Now, if you two would go back to your room. The children need to use the bathroom.”

The boys trooped back to their bedroom with quite an audience now. The little ones were watching eagerly to see what all the fuss was about. But all they could see was Jim looking angry and Sebastian looking sad. Last night Jim had been feeling bad again, they all knew, because from their bedrooms they’d heard him hissing and crying and Sebastian’s low rumble of a voice trying to calm him down.

“Sebastian, he has to die,” Jim said the moment the door had closed behind them. “You know it and I know it. He’s the last shadow we have to get rid of, and then we’ll be safe. You understand, don’t you?” 

Sebastian didn’t understand. Because Jim wasn’t acting rationally. He wasn’t seeing things as they truly were. This was the psychosis talking. 

“Unless he’s gone, he can still snatch you back from me,” Jim explained, wrapping his arms tenderly around Sebastian. “And we can’t allow that. We just can’t.” 

Jim shook his head solemnly, clearly believing his own words wholeheartedly.

“He’s my Father…” 

Jim slapped him so hard that Sebastian felt his entire face throb. For a moment he was left disorientated. But before he could register what had happened, Jim was kissing him fiercely. 

“You’re mine. Mine. Mine, mine, mine,” he hissed against Sebastian’s lips. “We have to get rid of everyone else.”

Sebastian held Jim close. He tried to calm him by stroking his sides. He ran his fingers through Jim’s dark hair. He let Jim kiss him until he was ready to stop. 

“Tell me ‘yes’,” Jim demanded when they broke apart. His eyes were so large and crazed that Sebastian wanted to cry. 

“Jim-“ 

“Tell me ‘yes’ and I’ll know that you love me.” 

“But he’s my Father. I can’t just… we can’t… Jim…” 

“He’s an evil man and he has to go,” Jim whispered. “He’s going to go. It has to be now. I can have him dead by the time you come home from school tonight. It will all be over.”

“I don’t…” 

“Say ‘yes.” 

Sebastian took a deep breath. Jim kissed him again before he was able to form any more words of protest.

“It’s him or me, I’m afraid,” Jim whispered, gazing at Sebastian with mild disappointment. “Who are you going to choose? Hm? Is Sebastian a Daddy’s Boy, or is he all mine?”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Augustus Moran was dead mere hours later. He was found on the kitchen floor of the Moran family home, his body black and blue, his back torn and hacked to pieces. 

When Eleanor saw him she screamed, fell to her knees on the kitchen floor, and wept.

Later, Eleanor Moran was arrested for the suspected murder of her abusive husband. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They placed an old sheet over the office floor and Sebastian lay down on his back with his shirt off. Jim brandished the new penknife in his left hand and studied Sebastian’s body, humming all the while. He traced his lovely muscles with his fingertips and pressed down in various places, just to see what Sebastian would do. He found out that Seb wasn’t at all ticklish, the way he was, and his jaw went very tight whenever Jim brushed his nipples. 

But he wasn’t here to play. That would come later. Today he needed to mark his territory once and for all. 

“Here might be nice,” Jim said quietly, touching Sebastian’s chest, the area directly over his heart. He moved his fingers to Sebastian’s collarbone. “Or here, although it might be a bit conspicuous.”

Sebastian just watched him adoringly as Jim touched his torso. Finally, Jim made a noise of interest and moved back so he was no longer straddling Sebastian’s hips. 

“Trousers down,” he commanded softly.

Seb looked slightly uncertain, but obediently shifted his body, helping Jim pull them down to expose the line of his boxer shorts and the darkening hairs that trailed towards his groin. 

“Here,” Jim announced, pressing his fingertip to Sebastian’s hip, on the right hand side, beside the bone. 

“Are you ready?” Jim asked, as he brandished the knife, touching the blade to check how sharp it was. 

Sebastian nodded. He seemed almost eager. He needed something now, because his Father had fallen away. Everything was gone. There could be no going back. Only Jim could remedy his pain. 

Jim brought the knife down, pressing it into Sebastian’s hip, splitting the skin easily. He ignored the way Sebastian’s body instinctively twitched and kept the pressure firm as he began to shape the letter ‘J’ in his skin, carving it so that blood poured out of the fresh wounds. 

He glanced back at Sebastian’s face before he began on the final initial, the ‘M’. Instead of the grimace of pain he’d expected to see, the pure, obedient, endurance, he saw dazed, clouded blue eyes and a pair of parted lips, breaths coming shallowly as Sebastian’s chest heaved. 

“You like it?” Jim asked curiously. 

Sebastian swallowed thickly and nodded his head. 

“Good boy,” Jim commented, smirking to himself as he started on the second letter. This time he didn’t hold back, didn’t worry about causing Sebastian too much pain. He pressed harder, watching the way the blood beaded on the surface of Sebastian’s skin, angry and frantic, dribbling down his hip.

He could hear Sebastian panting now. It was delicious. 

When he was done, he placed the knife down on the sheet beside them and examined his work. He pressed down on the ‘M’ with his fingertip and felt Sebastian’s body tense with a mixture of pleasure and pain as more blood surged out of his skin. 

“So you’re a masochist?” Jim asked, grinning broadly. His expression could only mean trouble. “I suppose I should have seen that one coming.” 

Jim leaned down to kiss the blood, to taste it. It was coppery on his tongue, but that didn’t matter. It belonged to Sebastian and so it was all his. When his lips were stained crimson, he returned to Sebastian’s mouth and kissed him hard, sealing the pact. 

“You’re going to keep this forever,” Jim told Sebastian tenderly. “And if it ever starts to fade, I’m going to redo it. Now, ‘Bastian, if there ever comes a time that we get separated, I expect you to keep it lovely and clear and fresh. Understood?”

“Yes, Jim,” Sebastian agreed. His body was trembling now. He seemed about to break.

Jim nodded his head and sat back on Sebastian’s legs again, this time reaching for the cotton wool pad with disinfectant on it. He swiped it over the bloody initials, making Sebastian hiss at the burn. 

“Hush, darling,” he soothed as he cleaned up the cuts. 

Sebastian started to growl as he forced himself to remain in place. Half of him wanted to writhe away from the searing pain, the other half wanted to drag Jim back to his lips and kiss him hard. 

Jim glanced down at him with interest. 

“You’re getting excited,” he commented as he finished cleaning Sebastian up and stuck the large plaster he’d bought specially over the wound. 

“Yeah,” Sebastian agreed. He wasn’t embarrassed by it now. Jim wasn’t a kid he had to hide that kind of thing from. He was his equal. In fact, he was his better. 

“One month and a bit and you won’t have to slink off and deal with this,” Jim punctuated his statement by poking at Sebastian’s groin where there was a clear bulge under the fabric of his jeans, making him growl again. “All by yourself. Now, sit up, sweetheart. We’re all done.”

Sebastian did as he was told. His cut skin hurt as his muscles moved beneath it, but he didn’t allow the discomfort to show on his face. 

“Daddy’s dead,” Jim said in his baby voice, tilting his head at Sebastian and widening his eyes. 

“Don’t need him,” Sebastian grunted. 

“Who do you need?” 

“You,” Seb said instantly. 

Jim plopped himself down into Sebastian’s lap, settling comfortably, completely ignoring the hardness he could feel against his bum. Unlike Sebastian, he could turn his own arousal on and off whenever he felt like it. 

Sebastian’s eyes were so adoring that Jim chuckled and bit at his lower lip, pulling it back as far as he could before releasing it. He could taste Sebastian’s blood again as he split the chapped skin. 

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” Jim whispered, biting Sebastian on the end of his nose. “I suppose it’s the beginning of the end.” 

Seb was too overwhelmed to consider what that meant.


	77. Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is almost sixteen years old and he and Sebastian are almost ready to become lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of abuse.

It was two days away from Jim’s sixteenth birthday. The nights were drawing in quickly now as they plunged into autumn. Jim’s black moods came more frequently as Jim aged, and lasted for longer. Each day he seemed to get worse, something that troubled Sebastian immensely. His episodes could hit suddenly, with no warning, or build up for weeks and then explode into mania. He was barely sleeping, hardly eating, although he was also more excitable than he’d ever been before, and content too, because the moment he hit sixteen, he and Sebastian could finally become lovers.

At the office, Sebastian had acquired a second desk that he now worked at, so the evenings were spent peacefully, both getting on with whatever they needed to. Jim hummed to himself and scribbled down equations and notes, while Sebastian chewed on the end of his pen and tapped his feet on the floor until Jim tutted at him to stop. Sebastian had coursework and was now being pushed into making big decisions about his future. His teachers wanted him to try for Oxford, where they thought he might be able to attain a scholarship, but Sebastian wasn’t sure he could ever be happy with a normal education; lessons every day, lecture theatres, essays. What he wanted was the freedom to travel and to fight, which only the army could provide him with. 

He hadn’t yet broached the subject with Jim, knowing that he’d need permission. Jim would be furious with him, and disappointed too, but Sebastian was determined to fulfill his lifetime dream of serving in the military. He could study and get into The Guns if he worked hard enough. Work his way up the ranks and really make a name for himself. Even bypass the reputation his late father before him had managed to achieve. He knew he was capable. If there was one profession he knew he could shine at, it was being a soldier. 

Yes, he and Jim would be separated for a while, but he’d come back. He’d get leave. He’d always return to Jim, no matter what. It wouldn’t change the way he felt about the Irish teen. Nothing could do that. 

Something told him Jim wouldn’t see it quite like that, and the thought alone gave Sebastian too many sleepless nights to count. That, added to Jim’s episodes, was leaving him exhausted. So he avoided any talk of the subject, saving it for a safer day, when Jim was less erratic. If a day like that ever came…

When Jim was finished with his work, he always sauntered over to Sebastian’s desk and perched on it, waiting for him to finish his sentence before sliding into his lap and kissing him softly. There were a lot of gentle kisses involved when it came to Jim. Sebastian had wondered what sort of a lover Jim would make, but it seemed, aside from the obvious; his being possessive, devoted, sensual, that he was also extremely loving. He enjoyed being held. He adored kissing Sebastian. It was one of the best feelings in the world, kissing Jim, Seb often thought. It cleared his mind of all the bad stuff. 

Today, Jim had a carrier bag in his left hand, which he placed down on the desk. Then he went back to kissing Sebastian for a while, until he was ready to stop. 

“I bought supplies,” he told Sebastian quietly, nipping at his lips lazily as he sat in his lap. 

“For?” 

“For my sixteenth.” 

Sebastian reached out to take a look in the bag. Inside were a packet of condoms and an expensive-looking bottle of lubricant.

“How’d you get this lot?” he asked, glancing at the items. 

“Sebastian,” Jim sighed, rolling his eyes. “I found four men willing to ‘do in’ your father. Do you think I can’t get my hands on a packet of condoms and some lube?” 

Sebastian supposed that was a good point. 

“Now, I suppose we’ll have to do it here,” Jim continued, playing with Sebastian’s school tie. “Not on the sofa. So we’ll need a duvet or something similar.” 

“I’ll sort it,” Sebastian promised.

“Good boy,” Jim said, kissing him again. 

“You nervous?” Seb asked as Jim stroked his tie and ran his fingertips over his school jumper. The heating in the office was constantly on the brink, which meant they had to dress warmly. Jim wore Sebastian’s hoodies over his suits, which made an amusing picture. Seb usually just stayed in his uniform. He didn’t feel the cold the way Jim did. 

“No,” Jim responded honestly, shaking his head. “I don’t get nervous with you.”

“No?” 

“No,” Jim said firmly, deciding to elaborate. “You’ve seen me naked lots of times.”

“When you were a kid,” Seb pointed out. 

“When I was a kid,” Jim agreed, kissing Sebastian’s jaw. “You’re seen me wet the bed. You’ve seen me cry. You’ve seen me vomiting into a toilet bowl. Anyway, you’re too much in love with me to worry about my physical shortcomings.” 

“As if you’ve got physical shortcomings,” Sebastian said with a grin. 

“I have,” Jim told him seriously. “I’ve got my scars.” 

“So have I,” Sebastian countered. “Much worse than yours.” 

“I don’t have muscles,” Jim continued. 

“Don’t care about that.” 

“I don’t have a flat stomach.” 

Sebastian would have laughed if Jim didn’t look so serious. 

“Yeah, well, I love you, warts and all.” 

Jim poked him on the nose. 

“I don’t have warts, darling. There’s no need to exaggerate.” 

Sebastian watched Jim’s face for a bit and then leaned in for a long kiss. Jim tasted of mint, because he was forever chewing his bloody gum, and also of something cold and clean. Seb’s own mouth tasted to Jim like cigarette smoke. It tasted of comfort, too, and of longing. 

“You’re much bigger than average,” Jim commented when they broke apart. 

Sebastian looked confused. 

“Yes, Sebastian,” Jim said sarcastically. “I’m talking about cocks.” 

“Am I?” Seb asked. 

Jim nodded. 

“I’ve noticed. When you swim your trunks stick to your body. And you get ever so excited when I kiss you sometimes. Although you’ve always been big for your age. Very tall. Very physically mature.”

Sebastian swallowed. He hadn’t really thought much about that before.

“What about you?” Seb asked tentatively. 

“I’m probably about proportional to my body. More or less exactly in the middle,” Jim explained without embarrassment. “Not that it matters much.” 

“So who’s gonna be-“ 

“Oh, you’ll be on top,” Jim said with certainty. “On the condition that you do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it.” 

“’Course.” 

Seb paused. 

“Listen, Jim. I get that all that stuff with Stanley must have… I mean, I don’t mind if you fancied giving. If that’s easier? This is on your terms, alright? Anything you need, I’ll make it happen.” 

Jim looked touched and kissed Sebastian softly, nestling his head against Sebastian’s neck. He knew that Sebastian had been thinking about this for a while. Bless his heart. 

“So noble, but I want you to show me what it’s really like,” Jim said soothingly.

“I’ll do my best,” Sebastian promised.

Jim smiled and leaned up slightly to nip at Sebastian’s right earlobe playfully, as a reward. 

“Do you suppose I still count as a virgin?” Jim mused into the silence when he’d had enough of nibbling and returned to his original position. His breath was warm against Sebastian’s neck. His body was cool, but then, it always was. Jim’s description of himself as a reptile was apt in that way.

“Doesn’t matter either way,” Seb said swiftly, in case Jim was feeling insecure. “That stuff’s all bullshit. It’s just about you and me, right? Guess you’re whatever you want to call yourself. Wasn’t like you voluntarily lost it.”

But Jim wasn’t listening. He was thinking. He did that often now, simply seemed to drift off into his own realm of thought where he spoke aloud and often his words bordered on the insane. Luckily today he was just pondering. 

“He stole that from me when it should have been you,” he commented. 

Sebastian wrapped his arms more protectively around Jim’s body. 

“Yeah, well, I stole his life from him,” Seb said firmly, his tone harsh. “His last moments couldn’t have been pretty.”

Jim laughed appreciatively at that. 

“No, I suppose they weren’t.”

The thought of the man that had scared and hurt him so much burning alive sent a shiver of thrill down Jim’s spine. The thought of Sebastian being the person to make that happen was even better. Lovely Sebastian, at age thirteen, disappearing into the night to kill. It was a memory Jim would keep forever.

“Easier than I thought,” Seb admitted. “Used to worry that the police would come after me. Thought I might have left evidence by mistake. Didn’t really have a clue what I was doing back then. Was all instinct.” 

Jim sighed and gave Sebastian an affectionate look. 

“Darling, they didn’t look very hard for the culprit,” he explained softly.

“What d’you mean? There was an investigation. It said so in the papers.”

Jim shook his head. 

“Do you think I would have let you go and do something like that if it was likely you’d get caught?”

“But I thought-“ 

Jim placed a finger on Sebastian’s lips.

“He was a known paedophile, darling. You did the police a favour.”

“They knew?” Sebastian asked, starting to feel sick. 

Jim nodded. 

“That’s why they kept the whole thing very hush hush. It was convenient for them that someone killed him, especially that they went to the trouble of making it look like an accident. There was no need for them to investigate or even convict the arsonist.”

“But they knew,” Sebastian repeated, sounding outraged. “They could have taken him in-“ 

“’Bastian, sweetheart,” Jim said quietly. “Never trust the police. There’s more corruption there than you’ll ever find with our sort.” 

Their sort. It made Sebastian feel a surge of pride. A sense of belonging and rebellion. 

“They’re all just as bad as we are, only they like to pretend to the world that they’re not. So who’s really in the wrong here? Hm?” Jim asked. 

Sebastian sniffed, his lips curling with hatred. 

“They could have stopped him,” he insisted. “Those fucking bastards had his details. They could have made sure he never got his hands on you.”

“But they didn’t,” Jim reminded him gently. “And it’s over.”

“You still dream about it,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. “It’s not over. Wish I’d cut his fucking flesh off his bones. Should have skinned the prick. Hacked him to pieces. I swear, Jim, I’d have broken every bone in his fucking body.”

Jim smiled blissfully and kissed Sebastian again, long and lingering. He loved it when Sebastian spoke about violence, when he felt that nasty surge in Sebastian’s blood. 

“We can pretend you skinned him if you like,” he said appeasingly. “But I’m happy that you burned him alive.”

Sebastian still didn’t look content. He looked troubled, almost ashamed. 

“But I thought I’d… I thought I’d done that for you. I thought the police didn’t have a clue. That I did everything right…” 

“Sebastian, what does it matter if you tricked the police or not?” 

“I just-“ 

“You were thirteen years old and you were willing to kill the man that raped me. No hesitation. None at all.” 

“I loved you,” Sebastian explained, making it sound so simple. 

“And you still do,” Jim agreed softly.

“You tried to tell me. Just after. I remember seeing the bruises on your wrist,” Sebastian managed to say, the words clearly causing him pain. 

“You weren’t to know.” 

“I should have done better.” 

Jim cupped his cheek. “You did perfectly. I’m proud.”

Sebastian swallowed down any more protests. Jim was proud. He was proud and that was what mattered. 

“I know you don’t like talking about it, but for your birthday…”

Jim sighed. 

“I’m not made of glass and I’m not a child. I don’t need any special treatment just because one man hurt me years ago.” 

“But what he did…” 

“So show me how it’s supposed to be. Just like I said, sweetheart. You can make it all better.” 

“Dunno how it’s supposed to be,” Seb admitted a bit shyly. “I’ve never-“ 

Jim started to laugh then, at Sebastian Moran, so big and strong, an adult, blushing and embarrassed over the idea of sex. He doubted that would last for long. In two days time, he was determined that aspect of Sebastian would be gone as well. He had an inkling that Sebastian would make a very good lover. 

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out. You worry too much, Sebastian.” 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed. “Maybe I do.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They decided to celebrate Jim’s birthday on the sixth instead of the fifth of November. They wanted their last night before they become lovers to be spent enjoying the fireworks from their small bedroom, just like always. 

So on the fifth, Sebastian smoked a cigarette and they both stood at the bedroom window, watching the sky explode with colour as they did almost every year. Change was in the air. Seb could almost smell it. They were on the brink now.

“Let’s talk,” Jim commanded as they stood together in the darkness.

“Okay.” 

“Tell me a story, ‘Bastian.” 

Jim used to demand that of Sebastian all the time. As a little boy, Jim had liked to hear Sebastian’s voice when he was feeling bad. It reminded him that everything was okay.

“What sort are you after?” Seb asked, tapping his cigarette out of the window. 

“One about us.” 

“Seriously?” 

“You used to tell them all the time. Whenever I felt bad. Or don’t you remember?” 

“I remember,” Seb said. “Used to make up fairytales. You were always a wizard or a king or an emperor.” 

“And you were always my knight, or my advisor, or my gladiator, or you slayed monsters.” 

“Yeah,” Seb said with a remembering grin. “Those were the days, eh?”

“You had the most wonderful imagination,” Jim praised him lightly. “I think you still do.”

“Cheers.” 

“You could have been so many things.” 

“Like?” 

“A teacher, a builder, a boxer, a sports coach, a writer. Perhaps a journalist?” 

“Could still be one of those things,” Seb pointed out as a blue firework exploded in the distance. The little ones could be heard gasping in the next room where they’d all gathered because the view was better from their side of the home.

“I doubt that, darling,” Jim said sadly.

Which meant that Jim knew Sebastian still wanted to join the army. Sebastian felt pain for a moment, but then he took a drag of his cigarette and changed the subject. He wasn’t ready for this conversation now. It wasn’t the right time. 

“What about you, though? They still want to publish those papers?” 

“The Dynamics of an Asteroid,” Jim told Seb. “That’s what I’ve called it. And it’s not just papers. It’s more of a book.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“It’s funny, though,” Jim admitted, chuckling. “They don’t understand it at all. They all pretend they do, but it’s too advanced. They’ve had all sorts of scholars take a look at it.” 

“You gonna give them the rights to it?” 

“We’ll see,” Jim mused. “I might like to save it and publish it myself, later on.” 

Sebastian sniffed. He wished he’d been able to understand the innermost workings of Jim’s mind, but just skimming the papers Jim had prepared made his brain hurt. It reminded him just how far advanced Jim was intellectually. Sebastian was top of his year, one of the best students the school had ever had, but Jim was on another level. He was so many steps above everyone else. Sebastian knew he was lucky that Jim even gave him the time of day, let alone chose to kiss him and hold him. He’d do anything to keep him and prove himself worthy of the boy that was, in his mind, the most brilliant human being alive.

Jim stood close to Sebastian and leaned against him. He watched Sebastian smoke, the way his lips closed around the end of the cigarette. 

“Oh, go on. Give me a drag,” he whined, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s waist. He’d been asking for a while now, but Sebastian had tried to keep him away from them. Jim had an addictive personality already, without a smoking habit to add to his self-destructive behavior. 

“You won’t like it,” Sebastian warned him. 

“Sebastian, I want to try.” 

Sebastian held the cigarette up to Jim’s lips obediently. He knew how this would go. 

Almost immediately Jim began to cough and grimace, proving Sebastian right. His eyes watered and he almost spat out of the window.

“Oh my god, Sebastian,” he complained, still spluttering. “This is foul. How can you bear it?” 

“It’s not so bad,” Seb said with a shrug, smirking. 

“It doesn’t taste like that when I kiss you,” Jim said, looking slightly accusing, as though he’d been tricked. 

“No?” 

“No. I like kissing you when your mouth is full of smoke. But that’s too strong.” 

“Guess it’s an acquired taste,” Sebastian shrugged, only he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face.

Jim glanced at him and got a predatory look to his eyes. He smirked right back at Sebastian and suddenly started to drag him down to the closest bed, Seb’s. 

“Thought we were watching the display?” Seb asked wearily, although he ditched his cigarette in the ashtray and fell back on the bed so Jim could crawl on top of him. 

“I got bored,” Jim answered carelessly. “This is much more fun.”

They kissed for a good twenty minutes, Jim nipping at Sebastian’s skin, sighing, writhing, trying to completely posses him. Sebastian did all he could to keep up, remained steady and reliable, ran his palms over Jim’s sides, up and down his back, stroked his hair, opened his mouth wide obediently so Jim could get at his tongue. 

He didn’t even realise that he was growling until Jim sat back, panting and smirking and looking positively sinful. 

“I’ve chosen you an animal,” Jim announced breathlessly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes, I think you’ll like it,” Jim agreed running his fingers over Sebastian’s clothed chest.

“Go on.” 

“It growls, and also has stripes on its back.” 

“Tiger?” 

Jim nodded. 

“You do get so fierce sometimes. And protective. And you’re very capable. Very strong. Ever so good physically.”

“Suppose it makes sense,” Sebastian admitted, trying not to lose himself panting. Looking up at Jim like this sent his brain into overdrive, and his body screamed for more. 

“Mostly because of the growling when you’re excited. I love it when you do that.” 

Sebastian grinned lazily. 

“You bought me a chocolate tiger once, do you remember?” Jim asked. 

“Yeah. You’d been here a year.”

“Tomorrow we’re going to be lovers,” Jim sang, giggling. “Oh, darling. We’re going to have so much fun.” 

He leaned down to kiss Sebastian hard once again. 

“Tell me that you love me,” Jim demanded against Sebastian’s lips. 

“I love you.” 

“How much?” 

Sebastian took a breath. 

“More than anything. More than myself. More than the whole planet. Love you so much it hurts. Fucking love you, Jim. Fucking love you.” 

Jim took a look at Sebastian sprawled beneath him. So perfectly tamed. So much larger than him, so muscular and strong and manly, yet on his back, looking up at him with clear adoration in his blue eyes. 

“Oh, darling,” Jim sighed blissfully. “I love you too. You have no idea how much.”


	78. Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian finally become lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex, but not in graphic detail.

“Ready?” 

“Of course I am,” Jim drawled impatiently. Sebastian’s warm palms were over his eyes to prevent him from glimpsing the office and spoiling the surprise. Seb had led him carefully into the room and closed and locked the door behind them. 

“Okay,” Seb said, removing his hands. “You can look.” 

Jim paused, raised his eyebrows, then grinned, a chuckle on his lips. 

“My, my,” he said. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, ‘Bastian, sweetheart.”

The room was dark and cozy, but Sebastian had stuck a load of glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling that looked horribly inaccurate, but also strangely beautiful. They seemed almost green in the darkness. On the ground was an absolute swamp of blankets and cushions, enough that they wouldn’t even be able to feel the floor beneath them, like that fairytale about the princess and the pea. 

“Like it?” Seb asked eagerly, stepping to Jim’s side to admire his own work. He knew that Jim was interested in stars and asteroids and space, so he’d got his hands on the glow-in-the-dark stickers especially, in the hope that Jim wouldn’t be offended by their childishness.

“Very much,” Jim agreed, reaching for Sebastian’s hand. Seb was trembling. 

“Come on now, you don’t need to be nervous,” Jim told him sternly, although there was a softness to his tone too as he leaned up on his tiptoes to kiss Sebastian’s cheek. “It’s only us now. No secrets. No need to be embarrassed.”

Sebastian didn’t know how to explain that he wasn’t nervous of Jim seeing him naked or anything like that. He was scared he’d do something wrong and hurt him by accident.

They were both freshly showered, having left the home half an hour ago. Verity had seen them leave, hand in hand, Jim a step ahead, and for once hadn’t tried to stop them going. She was wise enough to know what was about to happen and not to interfere.

Jim and Sebastian were incredibly stubborn, and would do what they wanted with or without her permission. It was better they got on with it away from the littler children, no matter how distasteful Verity found the whole idea.

“Come on, shirt off, handsome,” Jim whispered, unzipping Sebastian’s hoodie for him and then helping him pull off his blue t-shirt. 

Sebastian was conscious of his scars. Always. Even now, with Jim. So the Irish teen stood behind him and kissed them each lightly until he felt Sebastian’s shoulders lose their tension. He wrapped his arms around Sebastian from behind and hugged him briefly. Sebastian placed his hands over Jim’s and stroked the knuckles tenderly.

Jim shed his shirt next, although he wasn’t at all concerned about doing so. Like he’d told Sebastian, his stomach wasn’t flat. Despite his skinny limbs, it was ever so slightly rounded, but Seb just ran his fingers over it, making Jim giggle at clutch at him. He was fairly ticklish it turned out. 

It all became much easier after that. They stopped thinking of it as a big event, and started to have fun. There was a lot more laughing involved than Jim had been expecting, and a lot more kissing because they just couldn’t help it. 

When Jim ended up on his back in the middle of the nest of duvets and pillows and blankets, he pulled Sebastian on top of him and kissed him firmly, draping his arms around his neck and chuckling as Sebastian’s heart rate started to increase. 

They crawled under two layers of the blankets, to keep the cold from ruining the experience, and that seemed to soothe Sebastian more than anything, being covered. 

“You sure?” Sebastian breathed against Jim’s lips just before he went to reach for the condoms and lube. 

“Absolutely,” Jim agreed, nipping Seb’s lips, although not drawing blood this time. “You’re mine.” 

“Yours,” Seb nodded.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim didn’t end up with any bruises. Not one single one.

Instead, Sebastian had peppered his entire body with the most tender kisses from his chapped lips.

Jim felt positively adored. He had been worshipped, not fucked. Sebastian had somehow managed to show every single emotion he possessed as they made love. More than anything he expressed devotion, loyalty, tenderness, and absolute, pure adoration.

He’d anticipated pain, but the soreness was bearable, and nothing like what he’d experienced at eleven. There was no blood, no tearing, no excruciating agony that made him scream for Sebastian to come and save him. There were no tears and no sudden surges of nausea. Instead he felt his body go tight like a string about to snap and he finally let go with a gasp of surprise.

The thing he remembered most of all was Sebastian’s warm and sweaty weight above him, glowing and strong and yet so gentle, even as his muscles strained beneath his tanned skin and Seb’s lips parted. His eyes displayed the desperation of a man on the brink, but afraid too, needing permission and assurance.

‘He holds me very carefully in his hands….’

Afterwards, when Sebastian had kissed away the bliss, and they lay side by side, Seb took his hand and intertwined their fingers. 

“Love you,” he mumbled breathlessly. His chest was rising and falling magnificently. Jim himself was feeling contemplative and safe. 

“I know,” Jim told him seriously. “I love you too. Sleep now, ‘Bastian.”

Sebastian did so almost instantly, that permission all he needed to drop off, the exertion causing both hunger and exhaustion to fight for dominance inside his body. Jim curled up against his chest like a content house cat, draping them both in blankets to ward off the cold. 

The room smelled odd, of sweat and sex, and Jim felt sticky, his bum aching. Only that was okay. Sebastian breathed evenly beneath him, his body warm and solid. Jim closed his eyes and traced his fingertips over Sebastian’s chest, feeling for that steady pulse. 

As Sebastian softly stirred, feeling those movements, Jim pressed his own answering kisses to Sebastian’s jaw, his collarbone, the spot just beneath his ear.

He kissed his cheek and watched as Seb settled again, one large palm splayed on the flat of Jim’s back, the other sprawled out among the blankets. 

He’d been so gentle, so adoring. So tentative and obedient. He kept his eyes open the whole time, even when it became a strain. That colour of blue, Sebastian’s blue, would always remind Jim of loyalty. They sought constant permission and assurance from Jim with every movement. 

When Seb had crawled down Jim’s body and settled between Jim’s legs, he’d held Jim’s hands and let him squeeze and squeeze as he went to work, even then managing to put the weight of a thousand ‘I love you’s' behind an act that Jim had only ever thought of as filthy before. But it didn’t feel dirty when Sebastian did it. Not at all.

Sebastian’s back was covered in fresh scratches from Jim’s nails and his collarbones were coated in bites and bruises. But he enjoyed the pain as much as Jim enjoyed inflicting it. He’d gasped out and groaned and growled with each new blemish to his tanned skin, pleading for more.

He’d come with Jim’s name on his lips, his eyes obediently open so he could look right into Jim’s dark brown orbs as he fell over the edge. That was only after Jim had trembled and whimpered and pressed his forehead against Sebastian’s neck.

“I always thought that sex was a dirty thing,” Jim commented when Sebastian woke up. They still clutched each other on the office floor, surrounded by pillows, covered by numerous blankets and spare duvets. Jim was watching the glow-in-the-dark stars, blinking at them.

“Yeah?” Seb asked with a yawn. 

“But it isn’t. In essence it’s not.” 

“’Course it’s not,” Seb agreed. “I mean, it can be. But it’s just about being in love, isn’t it? Trusting someone with your body like that. It’s a big deal.” 

Sebastian was so perfectly mature, Jim thought. He kissed his shoulder tenderly, tasting the slightest hint of blood from where his nails had broken the skin. 

“I think we should try it dirty next time,” Jim announced. 

“Yeah, if you want,” Seb agreed with another yawn. 

“You love me so much,” Jim said quietly, absorbing all the earlier touches and movements, the look in Sebastian’s eyes as he watched him. 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed. Jim was quickly learning that Sebastian wasn’t at his most talkative after sex, but that didn’t matter. What he wanted was someone to listen to him, not to have someone to listen to. It had always been the way they worked.

“Why?” Jim asked, leaning up slightly to watch Sebastian. 

“What? Aside from the obvious?” 

“The obvious?” 

“Well,” Seb began, looking open and honest and completely sincere. “You’re gorgeous. Smart. Really fucking funny. Just… I dunno, everything.” 

Jim raised an eyebrow, waiting for Sebastian to grin crookedly to show he was being sarcastic. But that expression never came. 

“Everything?” Jim repeated, tracing patterns on Sebastian’s chest again. 

Sebastian nodded, so Jim kissed him softly and held him close.

He played with Sebastian’s hair, which was damp with sweat, and pecked him on his nose. 

“So how was it? Really?” Jim asked, smirking. 

“The shag?” 

“Yes,” Jim agreed, snuggling close again simply because he could. 

“Brilliant. You?” 

“Lovely,” Jim agreed. “You make the best face when you come.”

Seb’s cheeks coloured. “Do I?” 

“Your eyes cloud over, and you want to close them, but you don’t. It’s like you’re scared to miss something. And you bare your teeth the second before. But it’s the eyes that are perfect. You never stopped watching me the whole time.”

“Yeah, well, I liked the sighing thing.” 

“The sighing thing?” 

“Yeah. Just before you came you sort of mewled. Like a kitten or something. Did it when I was sucking you off as well.” 

“How poetic of you,” Jim teased, to hide his embarrassment. 

“Could compose a poem about it,” Sebastian insisted, talking nonsense because he was so happy. “Get it published and everything.” 

“About my gorgeous body and oh-so-tight arse?” 

Seb blinked at him, suddenly serious. 

“About how much I love you.” 

Jim chuckled. 

“Sebby, you’re getting horrendously sentimental. Is this going to be something that happens often, hm? You getting soppy after a shag?” 

“I really, seriously mean it, though,” Seb said, cutting through Jim’s joke and gazing at Jim like he was the only person in existence. “Love you. Love you so much. All I can think about half the time.” 

Jim stroked Sebastian’s cheek tenderly. He looked like he was in pain because he was feeling so much emotion. 

“Oh, I know you do, darling,” Jim soothed him, kissing his lips briefly. “I know.”

“Dunno how to describe it.” 

“Says the writer,” Jim teased. 

“Feels like my heart’s about to burst out of my chest. Just… want you. So much.” 

“Well,” Jim said quietly. “You have me. And I have you. That’s not ever going to change. You belong to me. I won’t let you go. I promise.”

They stayed in each other’s arms for a while longer, until Jim gave a sigh which meant it was time to go, time to pull their clothes back on and return to the home.

“Verity’ll be pissed off,” Seb commented as he did up his belt and ruffled his hair. 

“Hm, I think she already knows about this,” Jim mused. “She’d have to be an idiot not to.”

They were just about to leave, when for some reason, they looked at each other. Suddenly, they started to laugh, high on what they’d just done, Jim almost doubling over with the joy of it. 

They ended up falling back on the duvets again, just kissing and kissing until they rested with Jim on top of Sebastian, their foreheads pressed together and their eyes closed, as though they were trying to merge their minds into one.


	79. The Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian learns the price of failure.

Seb was on Shacklewell Lane, Hackney, holding a briefcase and trying his best not too look too shifty or suspicious. It was fucking freezing, being mid-December, and on Seb’s walk from the bus stop he’d passed too many tacky Christmas lights and decorations to count. He was wearing two hoodies, what passed for his cold-weather wardrobe, a pair of jeans, new boots, military-style, (an unexpected gift from Jim), and holding a cigarette in one hand. 

Graham Blackwell was the bloke Seb was supposed to be doing the handover with. Jim called it an exchange of interests. Seb didn’t care what that meant. All he cared about was getting the job done so he could get the bus back home. Hackney wasn’t his favourite part of London. It was full of shady figures, although he supposed he was looking pretty dodgy today, so he could hardly complain. 

Twenty minutes had passed when Sebastian looked impatiently at his watch. Still no sign of Blackwell. The description he’d been given was that he was overweight, had dark hair, and would be wearing a blue jacket. It wasn’t a lot to go on. 

The smell of chips wafted by as a group of laughing teenagers passed him. They were probably around Seb’s own age, but next to them he seemed like an adult, stern and solemn and solitary. Even his expression showed no youth. The group ignored him, most likely because he looked like he was up to no good. Probably best that way, Seb mused.

He was hungry now, really bloody starving, and still Graham hadn’t showed. Thirty minutes. Forty. One hour. 

When one hour and twenty minutes had passed Sebastian gave it up as a bad job and decided to pack it in. He scowled at no-one in particular, because his fingers were painful with cold and his legs were stiff from standing still for so long. 

Jim wouldn’t be pleased, he knew, but there was nothing more he could do now. Short of hunting through Hackney for a bloke that was most likely nowhere near, his best option was to return to Jim and deliver the bad news.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“I gave you a very simple instruction!” Jim shrieked, his eyes wild and furious, arms flung out to either side of him.

“Well, he wasn’t where you said he’d be!” Seb protested, rising to the bait and raising his own voice. “I waited, just like you told me, but he never showed!”

“Don’t make excuses!” Jim hissed. 

“Not an excuse, it’s the fucking reason I couldn’t get the details from him. What the hell was I supposed to do? Hunt through London for some fat bloke with a briefcase?!” 

“Don’t you dare get smart with me!” Jim warned him, waggling his finger right up close to Sebastian’s face.

“Wasn’t my fault,” Seb insisted. “He didn’t show. Not my problem.” 

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest, trying to take the moral high ground. He’d done his best after all. He could hardly go chasing people through London. It wasn’t like Jim had given him a particularly detailed mission brief, and he wasn’t yet comfortable with thinking on his feet. That left too much margin for error.

“I’m your boss. Speak to me like that again and I’ll have your head!” Jim shouted.

Seb scoffed disbelievingly. “Yeah, good luck getting me to suck you off once I’ve been decapitated.” 

“Maybe I’ll get someone else to suck me off? Hm? It may surprise you to find out you’re not the only attractive man in the world.” 

“What the fuck-“ Sebastian began, but Jim wasn’t prepared to listen. 

“I could replace you like that!” Jim snapped his fingers for emphasis. 

Seb shook his head again.

“Nah, you’re bluffing,” he said, convincing himself that was true. It had to be. It was.

“Want to risk it, sweetheart?” Jim asked him sweetly, before suddenly turning and sauntering off to the main desk, apparently finished with Sebastian for now. But Seb didn’t like being ignored. He kicked the already battered leather sofa and followed Jim. 

“What the fuck did you expect me to do? I’m not a miracle worker. The bloke didn’t show. He’s the one that fucked up. Not me.” 

“You failed me,” Jim declared. 

“No,” Seb argued, shaking his head. “I did what you told me to. Alright, so I didn’t get you what you wanted, but-“

“And now you have to pay the price,” Jim interrupted icily. “I don’t accept failure, Moran.” 

“Oh, Moran now, is it? Right.” 

“We’re in a business environment!” Jim hissed. “You’re my employee!” 

“I’m your boyfriend,” Sebastian corrected him.

For some reason that word enraged Jim like nothing else. He threw himself at Sebastian and lashed out, striking him in the face so hard that blood appeared, dribbling crimson out of Sebastian’s nose. 

“You had a job, Moran, and you messed it up. Don’t you dare ever, ever come back here without results again, do you understand me?!” 

Seb wiped his nose on his sleeve. 

“You fucking bastard,” he grunted, looking at the massive stain now on his hoodie.

Jim hit him again and again and again, until Seb was forced to catch his hands and his ears were ringing from each blow. Jim might have been skinny, but he knew where to strike him to cause the most pain. 

Business Jim was fucking terrifying, because he was a different person. He showed no mercy. He was ruthless to the point of inhumanity, and lacked a single trace of empathy or common sense. All he wanted was success, a profit, to complete his little tasks. Sebastian didn’t seem to matter to him as anything more than a lackey. 

“Let go of me. Now,” he instructed, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Sebastian as he tried to squirm out of his grip.

“I love you.”

“I said, let go.” 

“Yeah, and I said I love you,” Seb repeated, obediently dropping Jim’s hands. 

That was a mistake, because the moment he did so, Jim hit him again. He was wild, manic, completely unreasonable. 

“You failed. You failed me, Moran! Don’t expect me to just forgive you.” 

Seb wiped his nose again and stared at Jim, not understanding how this was the same teen that woke him up with kisses and hummed and tried to drag him down for lazy cuddles before they had to get up and face the day. 

Seb was starting to hate that fucking suit and what it meant, who Jim was when he wore it. 

“What do you want me to do then, boss?” Seb asked sarcastically. 

“You can get out of my sight,” Jim hissed. “And come back here when you’re ready to apologise. I don’t want to see you before then.”

“Yes, ‘sir’,” Seb muttered mutinously, before he stalked out of the room, slamming the door on the way out.

Once outside in the cold he attacked the brick wall, punching it until his knuckles were skinned and bleeding, until his new boots were scuffed from kicking at the brickwork.

He needed a cigarette. Or a fuck. But there was no way he was going to be getting a shag at this rate. Not until Jim could find it in his heart to forgive him. And that could take a while. The last look Jim had shot him as he left made it seem like he wanted to kill him. 

It was like some massive sick joke. His Jim. His lover. Suddenly this absolutely unpredictable, fucking scary bloke that even inspired a deep sense of unease in Sebastian, along with the love that flowed through his veins as naturally as the blood did. 

Lighting a cigarette he allowed his lungs to fill with smoke as his heart rate decreased. He needed these moments to collect his thoughts, because if he didn’t get out sometimes, he was convinced he was going to do something drastic. Sometimes he just wanted to lash out, and he hadn’t been asked to hurt anyone in two whole weeks. He was itching to break a bloke’s jaw. He needed his fix. 

There were no two ways about it. Jim was a little shit. He was. Yes, he was the most brilliant, gorgeous, fucking sexy human being Seb had ever seen. He was Sebastian’s idea of complete and utter perfection, but he really, seriously knew how to press Seb’s buttons. 

The arguments were so common now that they barely even mattered. Jim would scream and screech and lash out, Seb would rise to the bait and swear and kick things over. But it was all forgotten by the end of the day. 

Seb dropped his cigarette and stamped it into the pavement with his heel. He took a long breath of London air and steeled himself to return to Jim. Sometimes he hated this city, he realised, as he looked up into the darkening, grey sky. What he wouldn’t give to take Jim and go to someplace hot. India with Raj and Dawn would be good. But Jim liked ‘his city’ which meant the pair of them were stuck there.

When he returned, Jim was seated at his desk. He didn’t trouble himself to look up when Sebastian entered the room.

“Jim?” 

No answer. 

“Boss?” 

“Yes? What?” Jim snapped, like Sebastian was a mere irritation to him, a fly he longed to swat. 

“I’m sorry I fucked up,” Sebastian forced himself to say. 

“Really?” 

Sebastian didn’t answer that one. They both know the real answer. But Jim didn’t want the truth. He was The Boss right now, and The Boss wanted results, not honesty. 

“Won’t happen again,” Sebastian added. 

“No, I’m sure it won’t,” Jim agreed gracelessly. “Because if it did, you’d be punished. Severely.”

It was times like this that Sebastian regretted ever getting involved in Jim’s business exploits. He hated being talked down to. He’d thought being Jim’s lover might give him a few privileges, but Jim was stern, and in the business environment, they were colleagues. Jim was The Boss, and Sebastian had to do what he was told and not cross any lines. That was unless Jim fancied a quick fuck or a snog, because The Boss was also a hypocrite and got to make up the rules as he bloody well went along, apparently.

“So, you got anything else you need me for?” Sebastian asked when Jim seemed to have forgotten he was even standing in the same room as him. 

“I would have asked you to sort through some files for me, but I don’t want you getting blood on them.” 

Sebastian looked down at his own knuckles and noticed they were bleeding quite heavily. He hadn’t even felt it. 

“Temper, temper, temper,” Jim sang infuriatingly as he wrote something down. 

Sebastian took a calming breath and ran a hand through his hair. He often got the instinctive urge to throttle Jim nowadays, although there was no way he’d ever actually do so. It was more of a thought he used for self preservation, on the days where Jim decided to treat him like a piece of dog shit on the bottom of his expensive designer shoes. 

“I think it’s quite amusing, actually,” Jim continued, as he kept on scribbling notes down. 

“What?” 

“That you effectively let me beat you up earlier on and didn’t lift a single finger to hit me back.” 

Sebastian glared over at Jim. 

“Glad it gives you a laugh,” he grunted sarcastically as he stalked to the cabinet to pull out the first aid kit. He’d need to bandage his knuckles and clean them, which was going to burn like hell. 

“God, you want to hate me so badly sometimes,” Jim crowed, sounding irritatingly pleased with himself. 

Sebastian didn’t grace that with an answer. He narrowed his eyes and started to deal with his messed up knuckles. He cleaned them, which stung enough to make his eyes water, and then bandaged them. Seb was more than used to this by now.

“I wonder what would happen if I told you to hit me back,” Jim mused out loud, finally putting down his pen and peering over at Sebastian thoughtfully. 

“Don’t,” Sebastian warned him, putting the kit away and examining his bandaged hand. He flexed his fingers and nodded as he felt a surge of pain. 

“Come on,” Jim whined. “I’m intrigued. If I ordered you to hit me, could you?”

So he was in this bloody mood, was he? Fucking brilliant. 

“I could,” Seb grunted, not wanting to get drawn into these mental games, not today. He never enjoyed being Jim’s sick entertainment. The Boss was not affectionate like Jim was, he was tough and cold and took pleasure from his extreme discomfort and unease. 

They were both parts of Jim, he knew, but he preferred the version that liked having his hair stroked and sang camp disco tunes really fucking badly. 

“That’s rather vague.” 

“Could, but I wouldn’t,” Seb clarified, rising to the bait and immediately feeling pissed off with himself for doing so.

“I’m not a delicate little girl, darling,” Jim drawled. “I can take a little rough handling.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Seb said, shooting Jim a significant look. “You weren’t exactly ‘fragile’ last night in that goddamn freezing alley.”

“Don’t complain,” Jim chided him. “You loved it. But we’re not talking about the public buggery-“ 

Seb scoffed. 

“We’re talking about you being able to hit me on command,” Jim continued calmly.

“Wouldn’t do it. End of.” 

“So if I asked you to kill me, you’d say no?” 

Sebastian’s blue eyes widened and then narrowed. 

“What the fuck is this about?” 

“I thought you weren’t afraid of anything?” 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re afraid of my death,” Jim pointed out. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be over the moon if you kicked the bucket, no,” Seb deadpanned. 

“Sweet,” said The Boss. There was no tenderness there. This wasn’t Jim. The tone practically radiated amusement and partial disgust. 

“You might have to get over that particular fear, sweetheart.” 

“Why?” Seb snapped. 

“God, you’re just too precious,” Jim commented, tapping the desk with his fingertips. “You really don’t want to be left all alone, do you?” 

“This is fucking sick, Jim-“

“It’s something that might happen,” Jim corrected him. 

“Is this you trying to hint at something? ‘Cause to be honest, Jim, I don’t have the fucking patience to decipher all this bullshit.”

Seb thought that might have earned him a slap, but instead, Jim smiled, his Cheshire Cat grin. 

“Someone could very well kill me.” 

“Not happening.” 

“And why not? Because you’re my guardian angel sent to watch over me and keep me from harm?” 

Seb felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by reality, delivered in a mocking Dublin accent. 

“I wouldn’t let that happen.” 

“So what if one day you find me dead on the street? Shot full of bullet holes?” 

“Stop it,” Sebastian growled.

“Or stabbed?” 

“I said, shut the fuck up.” 

“Or maaaaaaaaaybe I might just get a little bored one day and pick up your most special handgun and…” 

Jim gestured with his fingers, miming a gun held to his head, pulling the trigger and sticking out his tongue in an almost comical imitation of death. 

That was Seb’s limit. He stalked over to Jim and grabbed him by the front of his suit, knocking him against the wall roughly.

“That’s my Tiger,” Jim laughed. As always he had no sense of danger. Seb knew he could be dangled out of a fucking jumbo jet and simply chuckle to himself. It was all just a joke to him. Life was a game.

“If you dare fucking hurt yourself,” Sebastian growled. “I’ll…” 

“Hurt me?’ Jim suggested. 

Seb grunted with frustration. 

“Because that’s really not going to help your cause at all…” 

This time Sebastian shut him up with a rough kiss. Jim dying was too horrific to contemplate. It was the ultimate failure. Jim’s death meant Seb’s inability to keep Jim clinging to life, to keep him swimming, not to let him drown. It would be his fault. Sebastian’s singular duty in this life was to keep Jim safe. It was his ultimate goal. And if he couldn’t manage it, then what was the point?

Jim kissed back hard, clutching at Sebastian and writhing against him. His pale fingers found Seb’s hair and pulled roughly at the strands, digging his nails into the back of Seb’s neck. 

But then suddenly, Seb was reeling onto the office floor, the side of his head on fire with pain. Staggering and trying to stay on his feet, he looked up at Jim, who only smiled back. He had the paperweight in his hand. It was the one from Dawn and Raj, bought in a market in India. Jim had called it distasteful when it arrived, but he’d still consented to have it on his desk.

“What the fuck?” Seb breathed, feeling for blood. Luckily there was none, but he knew this would leave a massive lump and a bruise. He needed to put ice on it quickly, because his head felt like it was about to split in two with the pain. 

“You failed,” Jim, no, The Boss, said impassively with a shrug of his skinny shoulders. He fixed his tie and hair and suit and sat back down at his chair. 

“Jim-“ Seb appealed, but The Boss just tutted and shook his head. 

“Get out of my sight,” he commanded, tone heavy with disgust.

Sebastian did.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim stroked the angry lump on the side of Seb's head tenderly, pouting with sympathy and compassion as though he hadn’t been the one to put it there. 

“And what lesson did we learn today?” Jim asked softly, kissing Seb’s cheek. 

Seb would take any affection he could get now. He never held grudges. Not against Jim. 

They lay together in Sebastian’s bed, Jim wearing a large jumper because of the cold, Seb in a shirt and boxer shorts. Jim had come home late this evening, had a long bath, stolen some biscuits from the kitchen, and then slipped into bed beside Sebastian, nestling against his warm weight. 

“Not to fail.” 

“Not to fail,” Jim agreed. “I know you’ll do better in future. I hate being nasty to you. ‘Bastian, but sometimes you make me do it.” 

“So it’s part of your teaching method?” Seb tried to joke, as though this whole situation wasn’t messed up. 

“He does like you really,” Jim said, ignoring Seb’s last comment and stroking his hair. 

“Who?” 

“The me from earlier. He only hides it because it’s a work environment and he can’t afford to show weakness. He has to stay in character.” 

That was bizarre, coming from Jim’s lips, having it explained in third person, like The Boss wasn’t Jim at all but a completely different being. 

“But it is a character?” 

“Of course, darling. No matter what I say or do to you, I love you. But that doesn’t mean you get special allowances. Otherwise I’d be a terrible boss, wouldn’t I? Hm?” 

Sebastian nodded. It made sense but he still didn’t like it. He wanted Jim to be tender like he was being now all the time. But nothing with them was ever that simple.

“Not going to hurt yourself, are you?” Seb asked after a moment. “That was just part of the test? Right?” 

“I don’t know,” Jim admitted sadly, gazing into Sebastian’s pained blue eyes. "I don’t know, sweetheart. Things are getting worse.” 

“You’d still tell me? You’d tell me first?” 

Jim smiled and nodded. 

“Of course I would. Now, stop looking so grim.” 

Jim took Sebastian’s hand and stroked it for a while, until Sebastian’s expression started to calm. 

“Now, get that ambidextrous hand of yours down here,” he commanded with a sigh as he pulled Seb’s hand down under the covers and between his legs. “I’ll try my best not to make any noise.” 

“Or any mess?” Seb asked, raising an eyebrow. “Seeing as this is my bed and all.”

“Well, I can’t promise that,” Jim responded with a wink. “But I’m sure you can clean me up.” 

“The things I do for you,” Seb complained as he wrapped his hand around Jim under the covers. 

“Oh, hush,” Jim commanded with a sigh. “You love it.”


	80. The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian have very different ideas about their possible future together.

Jim and Sebastian had spent the morning at the office and were now back at the home. Jim had refused food for two days and as a consequence looked to Sebastian like he was about ready to pass out. Sebastian managed to persuade him to eat an apple, but it had taken a lot of effort. He’d cut the pieces with his penknife, carving Jim neat slices and popping them into the Irish teen’s mouth.

Apples seemed to be the only fruit Jim would touch. He’d even gone off grapes by now. And the vegetable front was even worse, with Jim reacting with complete and utter disgust if he saw something even faintly green on his plate at dinner. He was getting dangerously skinny, but the moment Seb dared to mention it, Jim hissed at him and sulked. Sometimes, Seb felt as though he was the owner of a very bad-tempered, very contemptuous kitten. Not to mention that Jim liked to scratch him whenever they had sex, then curled up on him when they were done.

Jim’s mental health was spiralling, but the work seemed to help him. Like Sebastian’s need for physical exertion to release his tension, Jim needed to give his brain a challenge before he could relax. Seb was reluctant to let Jim stay up all night scribbling down equations and ideas, but the alternative was Jim laying awake, eyes wide, as he mumbled to himself. Sebastian didn’t like seeing Jim like that. 

Sebastian and Jim worked on most days now, and Seb had even been asked to meet with a few clients on Jim’s behalf. He wasn’t allowed to give his real name, so he went by made-up aliases every time. Sometimes Jim found it amusing to give him stupid names, just so Seb would get uncomfortable when he had to introduce himself. He also demanded Sebastian slip words into his business conversations, as a game. It seemed to give him great enjoyment to see his boyfriend stalking out of the office pretending to be pissed off by his immense workload, but really rather enjoying being given instructions to follow. Jim thought Seb was doing a terrific job, but he still maintained that Seb’s contribution to his growing crime empire was merely adequate.

On the days of his meetings, Seb was armed with both a knife and a gun, and was expected to attend a brief beforehand to get any instructions from Jim. He suspected Jim didn’t send him in to see anyone too dangerous, because so far the worst he’d encountered was a bloke that threatened to smash his face in, but looked more likely to fall over his own massive feet, and a woman that was armed but not all that skilled. 

Sebastian had now stabbed two men and one woman. Two died, the other ended up in hospital. The woman was harder to kill than the men, because Sebastian felt that somehow it wasn’t right to hurt a lady. But all that changed in a heartbeat when she pulled out her own knife. He didn’t want to admit that his moment of shaking morals had almost cost him his life. So he went back to Jim and pretended he was fine, that it had all gone perfectly. 

Jim knew about the woman, Miss Ward, whose body was disposed of by a few men who owed him a favour from his early days. He’d sent Sebastian on that particular job with the pure intention of testing his resolve. The result was what he wanted, but Jim still wasn’t quite pleased enough with Sebastian’s progress. It was too slow for him. He wanted Sebastian ready now. He didn’t want Sebastian to return to him shaking and needing reassurance that he hadn’t just done something unforgivable. It was the religious streak in him, Jim supposed. It had never quite disappeared.

“Do you know what you’re going to do?” he remarked to Sebastian as he finished off his last piece of apple and Seb chucked the core into the bin from across the room. 

“No,” Seb answered with a yawn. “What?” 

“You’re going to adapt. I’m not sure if I want my lovely ‘Bastian strutting around clobbering people,” Jim commented, grimacing as he swallowed the apple. He hated eating when his mind hurt him, but Sebastian did get so awfully worried about him if he starved himself. 

“I don’t fucking strut,” Seb protested. 

“What I want,” Jim continued pointedly. “Is Moran. My employee. Not lovely Sebby with the talented hands and tongue.” 

Sebastian completely ignored the compliment and frowned. 

“Your fucking dogsbody,” Sebastian corrected him. “You want me on a fucking lead.”

They argued about this particular topic a lot. Sebastian didn’t like being talked down to and he especially didn’t like Jim treating him like a mere member of the workforce instead of his lover. 

Jim shook his head. “Not my dogsbody. My colleague.”

Sebastian surveyed Jim, leaning back against the wardrobe with his arms crossed over his chest. Colleague sounded better than employee. Made them seem more equal. 

“Go on. I’m listening. Sell it to me.” 

Jim looked momentarily outraged, but then suddenly smirked, his eyes bright with excitement. 

“Weeeeeell,” he began. “First of all I’d give you a pay rise. Not pay per job, but a constant flow of income.” 

“Right.” 

“I’d keep you with me most of the time. But when we’re together and working, I’m your boss. No pet names. No liberties taken, understood?” 

Sebastian already knew that rule well enough. The last time he’d tried to kiss Jim in a business setting he’d ended up with a massive lump on the side of his head and a killer headache that lasted for three days. 

“No public displays of affection. Got you.” 

“My word would be absolute. No negotiation.” 

Seb sniffed. No negotiation didn’t sit well with him. 

“However, I might ask for your opinion,” Jim continued, sensing Sebastian’s unease. 

That did the trick. 

“Yeah, sure,” Seb grunted. “I get it. You’re in charge.” 

“Good,” Jim said cheerfully, fixing his hair. It had been messed up earlier when he and Sebastian had decided to have a quick snog in the laundry room. 

“So, how much are we talking?” Seb asked. He hated that Jim lost interest in him so quickly. His attention span was really fucking poor, Seb thought, for someone with that good a brain.

“Perhaps five hundred per week? Just to start with.” 

Seb’s eyes widened. 

“How much?” he asked stupidly, staring at Jim with awe. 

“You heard.” 

“Are you seriously making that much profit? You can spare that much cash for one person?”

Jim chuckled and nodded his head. He wiped his mouth daintily with Sebastian’s hoodie which was laying over the back of the desk chair. His tongue still tasted sharp from the apple. 

“I’m making more profit than you could imagine. I have four bank accounts now. I’ve easily got enough to buy us a well-equipped London townhouse in a central location.”

Seb swallowed. He wouldn’t be needing the townhouse for a bit. He’d be moving about with the army for a good few years yet. Jim’s idea of domestic bliss was completely different to his own.

“So you want us to live together?” Seb asked carefully. 

“Yes,” Jim agreed instantly. “Don’t worry though, darling, I’ll choose somewhere that doesn’t clash too badly with your tastes. I know that I like things a little more extravagant than you, but in relationships you have to make compromises. So you’ll have to put up with a bit of well chosen décor.” 

Sebastian wanted to grin at that, but he found he couldn’t. 

“Jim-“ he mumbled, but he was interrupted by Jim humming loudly. Seb couldn’t tell if Jim had done it on purpose or not. 

“The bedroom can be simple, because I know it helps you sleep,” Jim continued, completely ignoring Sebastian’s anxious expression and the way he was chewing the inside of his cheek. “But I’ll want a nice bathroom. We should get somewhere with a pool, don’t you think? So you can swim about when you get stressed. And we can probably have a room for gym equipment. That should save the walls from getting beaten to a pulp by you in a bad mood.”

“Jim, I need to talk to you about-“

“Do you think I should wear mascara more often?” Jim asked loudly, again cutting Seb off. Sebastian knew now that he was doing it on purpose. 

Seb licked his lips and shrugged. “Dunno. Looks good on you, but I don’t mind.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I painted my face blue and paraded about in a bin bag,” Jim pointed out, examining his mascara and then putting it back down on the desk. “You need more suits,” he suddenly announced. 

Seb looked instantly sulky. “Not happening.” 

“If you’re going to be my right hand man, you can’t go around looking like that.” 

Jim gestured vaguely at Sebastian, with an expression that indicated he was looking at a tramp instead of his beloved boyfriend. 

“What’s wrong with what I look like?” Seb asked defensively. 

“It’s not the sort of persona you want to project for business,” Jim explained, tutting. “I don’t think you’re going to inspire much awe or terror wearing cheap clothes like that.”

“Haven’t had any problems so far,” Seb argued. “And suits slow down my reactions.”

“So adapt,” Jim advised him sternly. “You can’t represent me looking like a chav.”

Sebastian’s outraged and slightly hurt expression was ignored by Jim, who decided to steamroller on.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while,” Jim revealed. He picked up his hand mirror and started to apply concealer to the bags under his eyes. “For years, actually.” 

Seb watched Jim putting on the make-up with interest. He never wore anything on his face, as a point of pride. Face wash in the mornings, a quick shave, and he was done. He didn’t have the patience to even out his skin or shape his eyebrows or get rid of any blemishes the way Jim did. 

“About changing my wardrobe, or hiring me?” 

“Both, actually,” Jim admitted, as he looked at himself in the reflection with great scrutiny. He had a new spot on his chin which he couldn’t stop staring at. Seb kept catching him running his fingertips over it unhappily. Jim cared about what he looked like far more than Sebastian ever had. 

“You could always pop it?” Sebastian ventured to suggest, which earned him a glare. Apparently he wasn’t supposed to mention the spot, then. 

“We’re talking about your employment,” Jim reminded him firmly, putting down his mirror. “I’ve always wanted you to work for me. Officially, I mean. I think it could be a beautiful relationship.” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. 

“What?” Jim demanded suspiciously. 

Seb shoved his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. “All I’m saying, is that all this business stuff isn’t exactly doing wonders for our love life.” 

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Jim commanded dismissively, waving his pale hand about with a theatrical air. “Our ‘love life’ is fine.” 

“Jim, we almost kill each other on a daily basis.” 

Jim turned where he sat and smirked at Sebastian, his eyebrows raised. 

“I know,” he agreed. “Isn’t it delicious?”

Sebastian sighed and took his hands out of his pockets once again. He went to the wardrobe and hunted out his weights, just for something to do. Without boxing he was worried he was going to lose his impressive arms, and so he trained at home whenever he could. Jim said he liked Seb’s arms lean but strong, so that was what Seb tried to achieve. 

“I think the biggest problem with you,” Jim drawled conversationally. “Is that you’re difficult to completely corrupt.” 

“Cheers.” 

“I mean it,” Jim insisted. “You’re unique because you have a conscience. It’s a very malleable moral code you live by, true, but it’s still there.”

“Sorry I’m not entirely depraved,” Seb said sarcastically as he watched his own arm muscles working. “I’ll try better in future.”

Jim tutted and got up swiftly from the desk chair. He pranced about a bit and then decided to slump down on his bed and hug his pillow.

“Do you know what having a conscience does?” he asked. 

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” 

“It makes you sloppy,” Jim informed him. “And we can’t have that.” 

“Right.” 

“If you have a single shred of doubt in your mind, you can ruin everything. One moment of hesitation and you’re dead.” 

“So I won’t hesitate.” 

Jim picked up his pillow and threw it at Sebastian. 

“Stop,” he commanded. “I need you to take this seriously.”

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian deadpanned. 

“Don’t ‘sir’ me,” Jim fumed, sitting up and fixing Sebastian with a stern glare. “You’re not in the army yet.” 

Sebastian felt his heart stop for a second. His mouth went dry. 

“You know?” he breathed out, body stiff with nerves. 

“Of course I know,” Jim hissed. “Were you ever really going to settle for a normal university education? Little soldier Sebastian? Hm? I don’t think so.” 

“They want me to go to Oxford,” Sebastian admitted, finally putting down his weight. “They think I could get in on scholarship. For the English Literature and History combined course.” 

He’d been keeping that fact from Jim for a while now, scared of how Jim would react when he heard about his continuing ambition to join the army. 

“Can you not try it?” Jim asked curiously. He was acting suspiciously calm. Alarm bells started to go off in Sebastian’s head. Nothing was ever this simple with Jim. Especially not this topic. Jim should have been screaming at him by now.

“I want to travel,” Seb admitted lowly.

Jim rolled his eyes. 

“You can travel after you get your education, you know. Oxford might be just what you need.” 

Oxford was not what Sebastian needed. What Seb needed and wanted was a bit of freedom, a chance to let off some steam and prove himself. 

“I’m thinking of continuing my education at either Oxford or Cambridge,” Jim admitted after a long moment of silence. 

That changed things. Sebastian felt a shiver of doubt down his spine. 

“What? So we’d be in the same year?” 

Jim nodded. “We would. I’ve deliberately held myself back for you.”

Sebastian didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, he was touched by Jim’s determination to be with him, and Jim’s confidence in his abilities. But he wanted to join the army. He’d always planned on it. Ever since he was a kid. He was a soldier at heart, a true soldier. Sebastian knew he could be the best if he had the opportunity to show them what he was made of.

“I dunno what to do,” Seb admitted quietly.

“So don’t decide yet,” Jim instructed, tone heavy with irritation. “You don’t have to choose for a few months. I suppose you’ll have to pick a life lived under constant fire, a dangerous, dirty, awful, dusty life in some far-off country, or a life with me, at my side.” 

Sebastian knew that was blackmail, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. His stomach lurched and he felt sick. 

“And if I want both?” he finally managed to say. 

“I’m not sure I’m happy to be second best,” Jim said confidently. “It’s up to you, sweetheart. But don’t expect me to support you if you decide to run away like a coward.” 

“Jim-“ 

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Jim announced. “It’s boring. You know what I think, and now it’s all on you. Try not to disappoint me, ‘Bastian.”


	81. Nearing the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim tries to convince Sebastian not to join the army.

Christmas came and went. Jim and Sebastian spent the day together, as always, although this was the first year that they wasted snogging, eating, dancing to Jim’s stupid music down at the office, and having sex on the battered leather sofa until Jim sighed and fell asleep, somewhere after their fourth round of the afternoon.

Sebastian watched him for a while and stroked his hair, trying his best not to topple off the sofa (since he was naturally on the outside edge). Jim’s body was completely different to his own. It was so pale that his veins showed up, blue and purple at his wrists and at the backs of Jim’s knees. Jim pointed his toes when he slept and liked to clutch at things, right now that thing was Seb. He slept in the fetal position most of the time, and parted his lips so he could breathe through his mouth. He had sinus problems, Seb suspected, because he was always a bit sniffly when he first woke up. Jim’s legs were smooth and silky because he shaved them obsessively every day. He hated body hair for some reason, not that Seb particularly minded. Sebastian liked the feeling of Jim’s skin beneath his tough palms, how soft it was, how angular in places, like where his hipbones and spine jutted out from under the skin. There were scars too, criss-crossing up Jim’s inner arms, although Seb tried his best not to look at them. 

Jim twitched in his sleep, and he licked his lips sometimes. He never snored, though. That was more Seb’s area, much to Jim’s continued amusement. He joked that he’d like to put a peg on Sebastian’s nose, but really, Jim found the sound comforting.

Sebastian looked at Jim now and saw the rest of his life. That dramatic little eight year old kid that had told him he had pretty eyes on the first day they met and commandeered his life from then onwards had matured into the only person Sebastian had ever loved completely. The blond rested his forehead against Jim’s, still panting lightly from the exertion, and closed his eyes. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

By January, Seb was nearing the end of his time at the home. In September, when his school year ended, he’d be given a bit of cash from the government to start him off, a council flat, and then he was on his own. The system was never made to support adults, Verity had told him, and so he would have to learn to survive by himself. With the universities demanding payment, and no guarantee that Sebastian would win his scholarship from Oxford, the military was looking like his best option. 

So on the twentieth, when snow was thick on the ground, the air icy, biting at their faces, Sebastian and Jim travelled to one of the council estates Sebastian might potentially be sent to. Verity had mentioned it offhandedly, but Jim had immediately decided it was high time Sebastian got a taste of his potential future. 

The place was grim to say the least. Jim and Sebastian stood together in the midst of the falling snow, peering up at the looming grey buildings that towered above them. The snow seemed to have covered the worst of the litter, but occasionally they heard the crunch of glass, instead of the soft noise of snow, beneath their feet as they walked. Bottles and cans and needles and crisp packets stuck out of the pure white drifts, and the sounds of people shouting and dogs barking ruined the stillness of the winter atmosphere. A couple of times Jim almost overbalanced on the ice, but Sebastian kept a firm grip on his arm and made sure he stayed on his feet. Jim wasn’t made for dealing with the elements, Seb mused, he was made for a life of luxury. 

“So, at the end of it all, you become an even bigger nobody than the person you started out as,” Jim commented dispassionately as he sniffed. His nose kept running, and it had gone a pinkish-red colour in the cold, his cheeks flushed, his lips blue. 

“Could be worse,” Seb said fairly, sticking his middle finger up at a passing gaggle of kids that looked like they wanted to cause some trouble. They took one glance at Sebastian and rushed away, scared. 

“How could it be worse?” Jim scoffed, wiping his nose again. “East London. It’s the cesspool of the city. It’s where all the scroungers and idlers are irresistibly drained to in the end.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. That was quite poetic for Jim. 

“Or the people that’ve been given a raw deal by the system?” 

“You can work your way up if you want it enough,” Jim declared dismissively. 

Sebastian didn’t believe that at all. He couldn’t believe that the people that lived on this estate were there by choice. They’d been screwed over by the politicians, the government, society in general. They were drained there alright, but not because they wanted it. They were led there so the rich could stay rich and nobody would rock the boat. It was all part of the system, and it sickened him. 

“Didn’t think of you as a Tory,” Sebastian said, sounding disapproving. 

“Oh, so you’re a left-wing hero now, are you?” Jim snapped back. “Why not turn to communism and have done with it?” 

Recently, Sebastian had been becoming far more political, and Jim was disturbed by how seemingly moral his basic principles were. They didn’t match up with his own at all. 

“If I didn’t have you, I’d end up as one of this lot,” Sebastian pointed out. 

“You’re too smart.” 

“So now you reckon only smart people deserve to live comfortably?” 

Jim rolled his eyes and spun on the spot, obviously bored. 

“I don’t care about politics. You know that,” he declared petulantly. “It makes no difference to me. Or to you. We’re beyond the law. It’s nothing to do with us. Sebastian, I’m cold.” 

Seb obediently made to take off his second hoodie, but Jim shook his head. 

“Body heat,” he commanded. 

“In a place like this? Not a great idea,” Seb mumbled, looking around slightly nervously. The word ‘fag’ was written in bright red spray painted graffiti on a nearby garage. It was the reason he hadn’t held Jim’s hand for the past ten minutes, only reached for his arm to stop him from toppling over on the slippery patches of ground.

“You can fight them off,” Jim whined, using his baby-voice. “’Bastian, I’m going to need my toes amputated soon. Why did you bring me out in this weather?” 

“You were the one that bloody brought me here,” Seb protested, although he took off his scarf and wrapped it carefully around Jim’s pale neck. “To show me how I could be slumming it if I don’t get my act together.”

“Oh, yes,” Jim admitted, sounding distracted. He glared at a plastic bag that drifted by in the howling wind, but his expression suddenly softened as a group of pigeons chased it. Sebastian thought pigeons were like rats of the air, vermin really, but Jim seemed to like them, so he didn’t screw his nose up. The other day he’d had to stop Jim from petting a pigeon as they sat and ate lunch in a local park. His reasoning was that it was probably diseased, although he also felt an odd spike of jealousy at the tenderness with which Jim reached for its grey feathers. “I wanted you to see what will happen if you don’t listen to me.”

Sebastian grimaced. 

“If this is about the army thing-“ 

“It is,” Jim interrupted him swiftly. “This is where you’ll end up if you choose the military over me. Do you know how many ex-soldiers wind up injured and broken and alone, with no money to their name, no family left?” 

“Yeah, well, I’ll have you,” Sebastian pointed out, shifting uncomfortably and shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re going to be rich. I’m sure you’ll lend me cash if I need it.” 

“Oh, will I?” Jim demanded. “Glad you think you have it easy now your boyfriend’s making a name for himself.” 

“Well you wouldn’t want me living here. You’ve said it yourself.”

“No, darling,” Jim said quietly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t like you to languish here. But don’t think for one second that I wouldn’t cut you out without a second thought if you decide to abandon me.” 

He sounded so fierce and firm that Sebastian took a moment to compose his response. The blond blinked at Jim, trying to ascertain if the words had been for shock value or if he truly meant them. 

“You mean that?” he asked lowly. “You’d wash your hands of me? Just because I enlisted?”

“I mean it,” Jim confirmed. “If you pick bullets and heroics and marching over me, you’ll regret it for the rest of your sorry life.” 

They stood in silence for what could have been one minute, or ten. Sebastian couldn’t tell. His stomach was churning and his mouth felt dry. Jim continued to sniff beside him and sneer at the snow. 

“You used to live on an estate,” Sebastian managed to say, just to get the conversation going again. Jim’s previous words were ringing in his ears. 

“Dublin was far worse than this,” Jim informed him sternly, as though Sebastian had implied otherwise. “Dublin was full of drunk teenagers, old people waiting to die, screaming, disgusting, dribbling babies, and religious nuts.” 

“Think you’ll ever go back there?” Seb asked. 

Jim sighed and sniffed again, before sneezing into his hands. Somehow, Seb reckoned he sneezed in a way that let the world know he was Irish. 

“I think I’m more likely to burn it to the ground,” Jim announced as he tucked his tissue away in his pocket, glaring at it with distaste. “Now let’s get out of here. I think I’ve shown you enough.”

Sebastian nodded and took Jim’s arm to help him back to the main path which had been salted and cleared. Seb felt Jim stiffen at his touch, and for a moment Sebastian felt his entire world stand still. 

“You don’t want me to touch you?” he asked quietly. 

Jim turned to him, looking livid with the cold.

“Not if you’re going to be a coward. I don’t want you anywhere near me if you’re going to let me down. I suppose it’s up to you, isn’t it?”

“Don’t do this to me,” Sebastian half-pleaded. 

“Do what?” Jim asked mock-innocently as he took another careful step away from Sebastian to make his point. 

“This is blackmail, Jim. It’s a fucking dick move.”

“Me? Blackmail you? Never.” 

“Fuck’s sake.” 

“Fuck’s sake yourself. I don’t know what you’re harping on about, Sebastian. All I’ve done is give you a little taster of ordinary life. A life without-“ 

Jim’s own words were interrupted as he slipped over on a patch of ice, legs flying into the air almost comically. Because he’d moved out of Sebastian’s reach, Seb had no chance to catch him before he fell. All he saw was Jim’s wide-eyed face as he made his descent and then landed on his bottom with a soft thump into the snow. 

“Laugh, and I’ll kill you,” Jim hissed, closing his eyes and refusing to get up. 

Seb raised an eyebrow and sniffed, crossing his arms over his chest. He would have whistled, but he thought that might have been taking it a step too far.

“Just gonna lay there for the rest of the day, then?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face. 

“Sebastian Moran, if you dare ever say anything like that again, I’ll gouge out your-“ 

“Permission to touch, sir?” Seb asked with a sigh, cutting over Jim’s customary threats. 

Jim rolled his eyes and nodded his head. 

Sebastian helped pull Jim back to his feet and then went about brushing the snow from his clothes. Jim’s jeans were wet on his bum and the backs of his legs, and he had snow on his eyelashes from his time on the ground. He glared at Sebastian but didn’t slap his gloved hands away as he attempted to make the best of the situation. 

“I hate snow,” Jim hissed mutinously, scowling at their surroundings. The snowfall was getting thicker now, the air cooler. 

“Yeah, looks like it hates you too,” Seb agreed, taking firm hold of Jim’s arm and starting to guide him back towards the bus stop

“Oh, how very you, Sebastian,” Jim drawled. “You think sarcasm’s going to convert me to your cause? You’re a fool.” 

“And you’re drenched with ice cold water,” Seb pointed out, trying not to show any of the pain he felt on his face. “So we’d best get a move on before you get pneumonia or something.” 

Jim scoffed at the idea. 

“I promise you, Sebastian,” he insisted, inwardly rather concerned that his boyfriend seemed to be making light of his very real threats. Was he losing his power? Had he let Sebastian too close? “That if you betray me, I’ll make you live to regret it. I promise you that.” 

“You love me,” Seb argued, shaking his head as he pulled Jim into the bus shelter and onto his lap for body heat purposes. Despite his harsh words, Jim accepted the gesture. It was better than being cold. 

“I do,” Jim agreed solemnly. “But you’ve forgotten the other side of me.” 

“Haven’t.” 

“You’re arguing, sweetheart, which means you’ve forgotten who’s boss. You’ve forgotten who calls the shots here.”

“Since when have you had a problem with us arguing?” 

“Since now,” Jim hissed coldly. Because he was losing Sebastian and he knew it. Seb thought he could swan off to war and still have a loving boyfriend waiting for him when he came home. He thought Jim would let him disappear. He thought he had that right. The right to freedom, when Jim owned him now. And that just couldn’t be allowed to continue. Something had to be done. Or else everything was lost. 

“You love me, I love you,” Seb said with a shrug, like it was the most simple thing in the world. He kissed Jim’s cold cheek, and Jim hated to admit how much safety and content he felt as Seb’s warm breath brushed over his skin. “We need each other.” 

“You need me,” Jim corrected Seb harshly, although he didn’t try to disentangle himself from Seb’s embrace. He enjoyed the security of those arms around his body too much. “I don’t need anyone.” 

Seb rested his chin on Jim’s shoulder and looked out at the wintery council estate. It was almost beautiful, in depressing sort of way. He didn’t answer because he knew Jim was lying. He could feel it in his bones. The words were just attempts to hurt him, and sometimes Seb had to let them go, otherwise he’d never be able to relax. Jim was volatile and changeable by nature, but he had to stay loyal and forgive him when he started spouting off bullshit. It was part of his job. Just the same as how Jim put up with him when he got angry and managed to calm him down. They didn’t only love each other, Seb thought. It was better than that. They knew exactly how to deal with each other, how to live with each other. They knew what never to say, and what always needed to be said. Sebastian knew that Jim loved him, even if he said it less often and liked to threaten his life and limbs. And Jim knew that Sebastian loved him, even if he swore and kicked things when Jim was apparently being a prick.

“Love you,” Seb mumbled with a yawn. 

Jim sighed, because this was never going to work. Sebastian knew him far too well to feel threatened by his words. Jim really, truly was losing his power over him, and it felt wrong. 

Real relationships, good relationships, were supposed to be equal, he knew. That was what Sebastian wanted. He wanted them to be normal, as far as they could be. For all his faults, the blond wanted to be a good boyfriend and care for Jim above everything else. He was rather old-fashioned in his notions of the world, and boundlessly optimistic when it came to love. 

But Jim was repelled by the mere word ‘normal.’ The moment he and Sebastian became ‘normal’ would be the day he’d end it all. So he had to keep fighting it, didn’t he? Because there was no other choice.

“I hate you,” he told Sebastian, trying to sound sincere. 

“Yeah,” Seb mumbled peacefully. “I know you do.” 

And then he kissed Jim on the cheek.


	82. Jim's Black Mood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim hits a nasty black mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicidal behaviour, mental illness.

It was late February when Sebastian found Jim curled up on his bed, face hidden against his pillow, body almost completely still save for steady breathing that Sebastian had to take a moment to notice. 

“Jim?” 

No response. 

“You alright, Jim? Having a bad day?” 

Seb had stayed late at Sixth Form attending a revision session for his English Literature A-level. He’d decided to keep his options open, and so he was still applying to uni. That meant he’d need top marks to even get considered for Oxford, although the school were keen to help him there because they thought it would do wonders for their reputation. 

Still Jim didn’t move. Seb sighed, took off his shoes and tie, and went to sit beside him on the bed. It creaked with his weight and Jim rolled towards him ever so slightly. Now his face wasn’t obscured by the pillow, Seb could see that his eyes were open, although blank, unseeing. 

“They send you home early?” Seb asked, reaching out to lightly rub Jim’s back. 

Jim nodded. 

“Did you tell them you were sick or something?” 

“Headache,” Jim confirmed. His voice was thin and wavery.

It was a full-blown black mood, and there was nothing Seb could do to stop it or make it better. All he could do was stay with Jim and wait it out. It would pass eventually. Perhaps in a day, perhaps in hours, perhaps in a week. It meant Seb had a hell of a lot more responsibility, though, because Jim was never quite right when he was like this. He ‘forgot’ to eat. Refused to sleep. Tried to hurt himself. And it was Sebastian’s job to make sure he made it through.

“You fancy a bath?” 

“No.” 

“Cup of tea?” 

“No.” 

“Want me to shut up and leave you in peace?” 

“No,” Jim admitted softly. “You can stay.”

Jim reached out blindly and took hold of Sebastian’s arm, pulling it against him and hugging it to his chest. 

Seb shifted and lay down beside Jim, spooning him from behind and nestling his chin against Jim’s shoulder. 

“How long?” Seb mumbled. 

“Since this morning,” Jim admitted. “It’s been hours.”

Another silence. 

“You stink of school,” Jim declared, wrinkling up his nose. 

“Sorry.” 

“And pity. You stink of that too.” 

Sebastian sighed. He decided not to respond. Instead, he kissed Jim’s shoulder and held him slightly more protectively. 

“One day you won’t be here when I need you,” Jim said quietly. “Will you?” 

“Can’t always be here,” Seb responded gently. 

“But I need you to be,” Jim insisted. “That’s the problem. It’s our problem. It’s gone too far and it’s ruining everything.” 

Sebastian frowned. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Jim said, more fiercely now as irritation bloomed beneath his skin. “That you made me think I wouldn’t have to be on my own anymore, but that was a lie, because now you’re going to leave me. You shouldn’t ever have spoken to me. You should have bullied me like everyone else.” 

“Jim-“ 

“There’s no reason for you to love me. None at all,” Jim declared bluntly. “It’s all in your head. You’re a good person, and you got drawn to a bad person, and now we’re both drifting somewhere in the middle, only you’re floating and I’m sinking. Because I’m evil, but you keep on trying to stop me, don’t you? Stupid, ‘Bastian. Deluded, ‘Bastian. Always making excuses for the most horrible person alive…”

“Jim,” Seb cut in softly. “You’re not the most horrible person alive. You’re a good person, alright?” 

Sebastian was used to this by now. Part of Jim’s condition was that his self-esteem would suddenly dip, but the next moment, he would be your textbook narcissist. It was unsettling to witness, but Seb had grown to deal with it when it happened. Right now, Jim was settled in his worthless stage, which meant Seb had to remind him that he wasn’t.

“You sound pathetic when you say that,” Jim said swiftly. 

“It’s true.” 

“Open your eyes, Moran!” Jim snapped. “You’re supposed to be bright.” 

He shifted around to face Seb and clicked his fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. 

“To me, you’re a good person,” Seb insisted lowly. 

“To you, I can do no wrong. To you, I could murder an entire orphanage of sweet little darling kiddies and you’d still pretend I had some good reason for it.”

“Jim-“ Seb breathed, sounding pained. 

“I’m crazy, Sebastian! What about that don’t you understand?”

“You’re not crazy.” 

“I can’t exist off the pills!” Jim shrieked, shifting away and curling up. “You’ve seen me without them. You know I can’t do it. My brain’s so good that it’s broken. So don’t you dare patronise me, you coward.”

“So we’ll find you different meds. I can ring the psychology place if you-“ 

Jim laughed bitterly and shook his head. 

“There’s no ‘cure’ for what I have. It’s called poison in the brain. But I’ll tell you something, Sebastian. I might be insane, but at least I’m not a pathetic, snivelling waste of space like you.”

“Jim-“ 

“You’re still doing it! You’re making excuses! I can hear it! I can hear the cogs turning inside your head! ‘Poor little Jim!’ ‘He can’t help it.’ ‘He’s ill.’ Well, I’m not ILL!”

Sebastian frowned and chewed on his lower lip.

“So what do you expect me to do, then?” he asked. “‘Cause I don’t know how I can help here, Jim. The moment I try, you bite my fucking head off.” 

“Because you’re stupid and ordinary,” Jim hissed. “Why isn’t He ready yet?” 

Seb’s body stiffened. He sniffed and swallowed. 

“He?” 

“The Holmes brat, who else?” 

“You want him instead of me?” 

“I need his brain,” Jim explained, scratching madly at his inner arms. He scraped off a scab, one of his self-inflicted cuts, and made the pale skin bleed.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry I’m not smart enough to keep you entertained,” Seb said lowly, his lips curling with jealousy for a moment. 

“It’s all about you, isn’t it?” Jim mocked him ruthlessly. “Me, me, me. What about my poor feelings? I’m Sebastian and it hurts me soooooooo badly to see my boyfriend in pain-“ 

“I love you. ‘Course it fucking hurts me!” 

“You have no idea,” Jim scoffed. “None at all.” 

Sebastian took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

“So tell me,” he requested evenly. “I’m right here. I’m listening.”

Jim rolled back to Seb, cupped his cheeks, and pressed their foreheads together. He could feel Sebastian’s breath against his lips, but he didn’t kiss him. 

“Listen,” he commanded, his grip almost painful as his nails dug in, holding Sebastian in place. 

He didn’t see Sebastian’s grimace of concern and pity, but he knew it would be there if he opened his eyes and studied the face opposite his own. It was the face Sebastian always made when he was scared for him. Jim hated it. He hated it so much it made him feel ill. 

“Can’t hear anything,” Seb admitted. 

“You can’t get in,” Jim agreed. “Because you’re not supposed to. You might stick your cock in me for a bit, but you can never know what it’s like in my mind, Sebastian. In the end, there’s nothing anyone can do.”

Sebastian hated that Jim was talking nonsense. It was one of the most heartbreaking things in the world to see the person he loved in a state of almost complete detachment from reality and depression. He kissed his lips lightly and rested their foreheads together again 

“You keep talking like there’s something wrong with you,“ he mumbled. 

“Aw, and are you saying there’s not? How sweet. How sweet and incredibly delusional,” Jim almost sang with derision. 

It was like navigating a minefield, talking to Jim when he was like this. His boyfriend deliberately laid traps for him to fall into. Nowhere was safe. Jim wanted him to fail. He wanted proof that he was unlovable. Well he wasn’t going to fucking get it, Seb inwardly fumed.

“You know I think you’re perfect, so don’t play that card with me,” Seb said quietly. “Wouldn’t change you for anything.”

“Oh, how very noble. How heroic of you. My hero. Aren’t you just my own personal Prince Charming?” 

“Don’t take the piss. I mean it. I love you.”

“I know you love me. I’m not blind,” Jim snapped. 

“Just want you safe and happy.” 

“Adorable,” Jim commented coldly. “But it’s all lies.”

“How is it?”

“I want it to stop,’ Jim said clearly. “I want it all to end because I’m bored. Everything is boring.” 

Seb forced himself not to ask ‘even me?’ He swallowed. He pulled himself together. He tried his best not to be selfish. 

“So how can I make it interesting again?” he asked bravely. 

Jim sighed. 

“You can’t, sweetheart,” Jim said with surprising tenderness. “You just can’t.” 

That voice was worse than the ranting and the raving and the lashing out. It scared Sebastian so much that the pit of his stomach went icy cold.

“Right,” Seb said quickly. “Coat and shoes on. We’re going out.” 

“Where?” Jim demanded suspiciously. 

“No idea. Walk. Bus ride. All I know is that you need to get out of this fucking house before it stifles you.” 

It wasn’t the house that was stifling Jim at all. It was life. It was incredibly lonely, being the cleverest person he knew of. Inside he hoped that Sherlock Holmes might one day grow into his equal, but even that was touch and go. He could suddenly come to a standstill in his intellectual growth. A lot of children did, apparently. And then what would Jim do? 

Sebastian was his support in life, and the person he loved, but Sebastian simply wasn’t enough. Not mentally. Nobody was. He needed someone to understand the way his mind leapt from thought to thought, from problem to solution. There had to be someone, didn’t there? Holmes would just have to hurry up and age before Jim gave up waiting for him completely and ended it all. 

“Curfew-“ Verity attempted to say as she saw Sebastian and Jim, warmly dressed and heading for the front door, but Seb slammed it in Verity’s face. It was none of her business where they went. He was an adult now, so he didn’t need to report back to her constantly. The last thing Jim needed was someone nagging at him. 

“This is a waste of time,” Jim informed Sebastian coldly as they walked, Seb keeping a firm hold of his hand. “There’s nothing I want to see. There’s nothing I want to do. It’s all boring, boring, boring and I want to kill them all.” 

“If you killed them all society would collapse,” Seb pointed out, stroking Jim’s fingers comfortingly. He was leading Jim to the local park, the one with the pigeons. They hadn’t been there by night before, but it was one of the only places Jim ever seemed to relax in. 

“Maybe I want it to collapse,” Jim responded. “Maybe I want everyone burning and screaming. Maybe I just don’t care.” 

At the park Jim went to sit on one of the swings, the one that didn’t have bird droppings on it. Seb stood beside him with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the metal pole as Jim swung lightly, letting his feet skim the ground. It could have been an eerie sight, Jim so pale, expression so tired, the swing creaking as he moved. 

“You’re staring at me,” Jim said without lifting his eyes from the ground. 

Seeing that as his cue to stop, Sebastian reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette and his lighter. He began to smoke, eyes determinedly not on Jim, instead looking out over the scummy park bathed in darkness and moonlight. There were no pigeons at this time. Only beer cans and plastic bags. 

They’d spent a lot of time here as kids, the pair of them. Sebastian still remembered when Jim liked being pushed on the good swing and when he’d been short enough to climb on the main climbing frame. He remembered showing off quite a bit, wanting Jim to see how strong he was, but too shy to actually ask Jim’s opinion. So he’d tried to climb higher and higher, to be more impressive so Jim would be pleased. Funny really, looking back on it now, he thought. Even back then Jim had been disdainful and tough to impress. He’d chattered more openly as a kid, though. He’d definitely laughed more sincerely. Liked his affection back then, too, being given piggybacks and being carried and cuddled. 

The teenager Jim had grown into was far more icy. He thought a lot more before he acted, and more or less every word or movement seemed premeditated.

“What was the point of bringing me here?” Jim demanded into the still silence of the cold evening. 

“You needed fresh air.” 

“I never need fresh air. That’s you, not me,” Jim declared will a roll of his eyes. “I think, Sebastian, darling, that you took me here because you were panicking, and being outside makes you feel better.” 

“Thought it would make us both feel better,” Seb admitted. 

Jim began to kick his legs so he could swing higher. Seb saw his fingers clench around the chains.

“When I was nine I skinned my knee here,” Jim declared, sounding suddenly and shockingly recovered, almost his normal self. Sebastian was wary. Just as he’d suspected, Jim’s eyes were glinting. Which meant he was getting manic. 

“I know. I carried you home,” Seb agreed calmly, still watching Jim swing higher and higher. 

“You beat up that ugly boy with the spots when he called me names,” Jim added. “Right by the slide.” 

“Didn’t beat him up. Just punched him a few times.” 

“You made him cry,” Jim reminded Sebastian. 

Seb nodded. “Yeah. He deserved it.” 

Jim let out a long sigh and started to laugh, shaking with giggles. 

“Jim?” 

“I was just thinking,” he told Seb through his laughter. “How funny it would be if I let go of the swing.” 

“You’d break your bloody legs,” Seb said, quickly changing his posture in case he found himself needing to try and catch Jim. Maybe bringing him here hadn’t been such a good idea after all? 

“Or my neck,” Jim informed Seb, giggling again. “What a way to go.” 

“Yeah, hilarious.”

Jim slowed himself down by scuffing his feet along the tarmac. He fixed Sebastian with a glare and jumped off the swing at a reasonable height, landing on his feet. Seeing Sebastian flinch made him start laughing again.

“Come on,” Jim suddenly declared, calling over his shoulder as he began to stroll off. “I’m bored.” 

“We only just got here-“ 

“Bored!” 

Sebastian followed Jim, still smoking his cigarette. Jim walked out of the park, took a detour down a few backstreets, and kept on going, moving more quickly as he went. 

“Where are we going?” Seb asked. 

“Somewhere fun,” Jim declared. “Somewhere exciting. Somewhere I’ll like.” 

“Where?” 

“Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t ruin the surprise,” Jim sang. He was definitely manic now, because his hips were swaying. How had that happened so quickly? On the walk to the park, Jim had been still and silent, eyes on the pavement. Now he looked like he wanted to dance. 

They walked for ten minutes, Jim occasionally changing direction with a giggle and trying to lose Seb. That didn’t work. Seb kept a close eye on him and refused to be shaken off as part of the game. His unease grew the further into the backstreets they went. 

Then the alley they were in opened out onto a main road, cars passing, lights flashing and blinking in the darkness, noise breaking through the air as they passed, exhaust fumes stinking of the usual London pollution. 

Sebastian took a look at their surroundings to try and work out where exactly Jim was leading them to. He knew the area far better than Seb did, apparently. Either he had a specific goal in mind or he was feeling spontaneous.

Then Sebastian saw Jim move out of the corner of his eye. 

“Jim!” Sebastian yelled as his boyfriend darted out into the middle of the road. 

Cars swerved, horns beeped, Sebastian took a breath, dropped his cigarette, and in a moment he was out in the road as well, narrowly dodging a speeding van as he grabbed hold of Jim by his clothes and yanked him out of the way of a car that hadn’t spotted him. Heart racing so fast he could hear it in his ears, he let his blue eyes scan the oncoming traffic, made a split second decision, and forcibly pushed Jim out of the road, only just managing to avoid the next car, in which people were shouting with fury and beeping their horn. 

Jim attempted to get back into the road almost immediately, but Sebastian growled at him, shoved him over onto his back on the pavement, and threw his body over him, pinning him down as Jim writhed and tried to bite and kick his way free. 

“Get off me!” Jim screamed, sinking his teeth into Sebastian’s arm. “Get off!” 

Sebastian refused to move. He completely ignored the bite. He wasn’t letting Jim back out into that road to kill himself. 

“You pathetic, useless, idiot!” Jim screeched, trying to hit Sebastian. “If you don’t let me go I’ll have you shot!”

“You bastard,” Sebastian breathed out, feeling his chest heave. The words were delivered lowly, his entire body ice cold with shock and creeping horror. “You fucking little bastard.” 

“Sebastian, I’m warning you!” 

Seb growled. He shoved Jim as hard as he could and held him down firmly, covering Jim’s writhing, pale body with his own. He needed him to stop scrabbling. To just fucking stop trying to hurt himself. 

“Get off me!” 

“You fucking shit,” Seb hissed.

Jim kicked him some more, attempting to wriggle free. Sebastian was too determined to let him go, though, too strong. 

“Promise you’re not going back into the road,” Sebastian grunted out. 

“No!” 

“Fucking well promise me, you little bastard!” 

“Get off! Get off! Get off!” Jim screamed, and then he started to cry, giving up and going limp. 

Sebastian loosened his grip warily, and scooped Jim up into his arms, just the same as he used to when Jim was a kid. The passing cars were jeering at them now, still hooting, but Seb ignored them. 

“Why didn’t you just leave me?” Jim wept, sobbing against Sebastian’s neck. “Why couldn’t you just let me go, you coward?!” 

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at,” Sebastian answered lowly as he carried him. “But I swear to god, Jim, you ever do anything like that to me again, and I’ll fucking well end you.” 

Jim was acting more like a child now than a boy of sixteen years. He clung tightly to Sebastian and cried against his neck, refusing to look at the world. He felt weak and pathetic and tired. 

Seb was too angry and scared to apologise for his words. Jaw set, teeth clamped together in a grimace, he carried Jim to the office, even though it took him twenty minutes of walking and a bus journey to get there. The bus was mostly empty, with only an old woman and a dodgy looking bloke on board. The old woman seemed sympathetic, although she kept trying to get a look at Jim and find out why he was crying. The man didn’t even glance at Seb and Jim. 

The first thing Sebastian did when he got Jim into the office was lay him down on the sofa. The second was to pick up the phone and call Verity. She wasn’t pleased that they’d gone walkabout, but Sebastian thought by contacting her, she’d be less likely to worry about Jim’s mental state. Seb was all too aware that Jim was on the brink of getting hospitalised, and he couldn’t let that happen. 

“If you love me, you’ll kill me,” Jim said quietly, staring into the darkness.

Sebastian pushed the phone away, chewed on the inside of his cheek, took a deep breath, and walked back over to the sofa. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Seb answered, his voice soft. “Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.” 

“I mean it.” 

“So do I,” Seb said firmly. He settled next to Jim, trying to balance so he wouldn’t topple off the sofa. “We’re staying here tonight.”

Jim moved over slightly so Sebastian had more room. At least he wasn’t pushing him away, Seb thought. 

“I hate you,” Jim sighed as he nestled his forehead against Sebastian’s neck. 

“Go the fuck to sleep.” 

“I really, really hate you,” Jim tried again.

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Seb murmured. “Sleep.”

“You’re only swearing at me because I scared you,” Jim observed in a whisper. 

“Jim, sleep,” Sebastian commanded, eyes watching the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stickers were still there, but they were peeling away now. 

“You ran right out into the road after me,” Jim continued, reaching up to stroke Seb’s cheek. “Poor sweetheart.” 

Seb kissed Jim’s hand and then pushed it away from his face firmly. 

“You go, I go. And I don’t fancy leaving yet. Now sleep, alright?”

“You can’t order me to do anything.” 

Sebastian gave a half-sigh, half-growl, and wrapped his arms around Jim tightly, holding him in place, keeping him still. 

“I’ll try again,” Jim whispered. 

“I’ll stop you again,” Sebastian answered lowly. 

“Can’t stop me forever,” Jim sang weakly. “One day I’ll get bored and you won’t be there. One day you’ll be too far away. You won’t get there in time. And then I’ll have won. What will you do then, hm?” 

Sebastian felt his eyes welling up, but he blinked any tears away fiercely. He wasn’t ever going to cry again. He’d promised himself that at the beach, when Jim had first kissed him. 

Everything was a game to Jim, even this. Even his fucking life. 

“Please,” Sebastian said quietly. “Please just sleep. Just shut up and sleep.” 

“Am I stressing you out?” 

“You’re breaking my fucking heart you selfish little bastard,” Sebastian admitted. He kissed Jim on the forehead. Jim’s skin was icy cold. “Fucking sleep.” 

Jim did.


	83. Verity's Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is called to a meeting with Verity to discuss the situation with Jim.

Sebastian was called for a meeting in Verity’s office one morning in March. Jim was curled up in bed, having been up half the night experiencing mania and hallucinations. He’d been talking about voices, which worried Seb far more than he let on. Later, Jim had requested a story, and Sebastian had obliged, if only to soothe Jim back to sleep. Jim’s mental health was taking its toll on them both. Jim barely slept and hardly ate, and Seb was starting to absorb Jim’s stress. The only things that excited Jim now were his work and sex, and Seb was finding it hard to enjoy anything at all. Even his after-school extra revision sessions left him nervous, in case Jim needed him back at home. 

They both had mobile phones now, bought by Jim. Jim had been using one for a while now, but for some reason hadn’t told Sebastian about it. Seb suspected Jim had only bought him one so that he wouldn’t stress out constantly when they were apart. At least now Jim could contact him whenever. 

Verity had grown old, Sebastian realised as he let himself into her office and sat down on an uncomfortable plastic chair. The room still made him uneasy, even now. It had been the scene of plenty of his disciplinary talks as a child, where he’d been taken to hear bad news. But it had also been the place Sebastian had been when he first heard Jim’s name, he reminded himself. On the day that Verity told him a new little boy was coming over to London from Dublin, in Ireland, and that he’d be sharing a room with Seb. 

Back then, Sebastian remembered being nervous and chewing on his lower lip. He never spoke to Verity much, just listened and nodded or shook his head. Dawn had been the only adult he’d ever been truly happy conversing with, and even then he preferred to listen to her talk. 

“James is eight years old,” Verity had explained. “So I expect you to be on your best behaviour with him. No violence and absolutely no swearing. I’ll be keeping my eye on you, and if I think you’re going to put him in any danger, I’ll send you elsewhere, is that clear?” 

Seb had just nodded. 

Today, Verity was wearing a red sweater and her usual necklace, plain and silver. There were three mugs on her desk, only one of them steaming with fresh coffee. She hardly ever left the room now, and there was a stale smell to it. 

“I thought I’d check in with you,” Verity said in her business voice. 

“Okay,” Seb mumbled. He sat up in his chair uncomfortably, back straight, chin held high. 

“How are your A-levels going?” 

“Fine.” 

“How about your anger management sessions?” 

“Fine,” Seb repeated, not wanting to get drawn into a conversation with Verity. 

She paused for a moment, surveyed Sebastian, and then sighed, shaking her head slightly. She could see that Sebastian wasn’t going to make this easy for her. But then he never did. It was quite clear to Verity that Sebastian disliked her. 

“You’re very close to Jim,” she said simply. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m concerned about his mental health.” 

Sebastian sniffed and shifted in his seat. His t-shirt slipped slightly, revealing a love bite on his lower neck. Verity tried not to frown. 

“I’m sorting it,” Seb told her gruffly. 

“You’re eighteen. He needs professional help.” 

“He’s fine,” the blond insisted, more sharply now.

Verity shook her head. James Moriarty was anything but ‘fine’. He was quite clearly on his way to hospitalisation. He was almost shockingly changeable, he scared the younger children, he could be heard whispering or crying at night, and he self harmed whenever he declared himself ‘bored’, a lot of the time for attention from Sebastian. There was still a darkness to his eyes, too, the same as always. Something not quite right in his expressions. Jim was extremely dramatic, but also oddly cold, a combination that Verity found made her uneasy. 

“He’s experiencing psychotic episodes,” she pointed out. 

“Just leave him alone,” Seb grunted. “Cassie gets manic too. Don’t see you policing her.” 

“I don’t think your…” she paused with apparent distaste, searching for the words. “… close friendship is helping him.” 

Sebastian’s blue eyes narrowed. 

“It’s a relationship. We fuck,” he told her without embarrassment. “And we’re fine.” 

“Jim’s therapist doesn’t seem to think so.” 

“Bullshit.” 

Verity took another look at the man sitting opposite her. He was taller than she was by quite a bit, and he looked like a proper adult rather than the teenager she was used to. He was the spitting image of Augustus Moran, Verity thought. He’d been in the papers quite recently after his shocking death, although Sebastian hadn’t reacted particularly dramatically to the news that his mother had had his father murdered after all these years. 

“Have you heard of codependency?” she asked as gently as she could. 

“No.” 

“It’s when-“ 

Sebastian cut her off. “I don’t give a shit,” he announced lowly. 

“Language,” Verity reprimanded him. It was a losing battle, trying to stop Sebastian Moran from swearing, but it was part of her house rules, and Verity saw rules as important to keep the order and the peace.

“He’s hit a bad patch,” Sebastian explained gruffly. “But he’ll get better.” 

“I think the pair of you need some space,” Verity said, getting straight to the point. 

“No.” 

“Listen to me-“ 

“He’ll kill himself without me.” 

Verity sighed and nodded. Although she inwardly wondered if that truly was the case. Jim exhibited suicidal behavior, ideation and impulses, but a premeditated suicide didn’t seem to fit his case notes at all. She believed it was more likely he’d kill himself in a fit of mania or rage, rather than plan the act in advance. 

“That’s exactly my point,” she explained, trying to ignore the look of hatred Sebastian was currently shooting her. “It’s unhealthy and I can’t support it.” 

“Just because you think being gay’s wrong-“ 

“I don’t, actually.” 

Seb paused, surprised. He blinked, licked his lips, and sniffed. 

“Bullshit, you’ve always hated us being together,” he said. 

Verity opened her desk drawer and reached inside to pull out a framed photograph she always kept there. Without a single new expression crossing her features, she showed the photograph to Sebastian. 

The woman in the photograph had short hair, almost as short as Sebastian’s own. She had a playful sort of smile, and broad shoulders, although her neck was long and her chin pointed. 

“Who’s she?” he asked uncertainly. 

“My ex-wife.” 

Seb’s jaw dropped. For some reason the idea of Verity ever being married or being gay had never crossed his mind. He wondered if Jim had ever realised. If he had, he’d never mentioned it. 

“Right-“ 

“She’s dead. Cancer.” 

“Sorry,” Seb mumbled uncomfortably. He scratched at the back of his neck and looked down at the office floor. 

“It isn’t because you’re two males. It’s because it’s unhealthy and it’s restricting both of your personal growth.”

Seb thought on that. Was he restricting Jim’s personal growth? It was impossible to tell, because he had no idea what ‘normal’ kids and teenagers were supposed to be like. 

“He needs me,” he said firmly. 

“He shouldn’t ‘need’ you. He’s sixteen.” 

“I need him too. It’s equal. Alright?” 

Verity put away her photograph and gently shut the desk drawer. She paused for a moment to take a sip of her cup of coffee. She could feel the defiance radiating from the young man seated opposite her. 

“I’ll tell you something, Sebastian,” she said finally. “In the past, I had the wrong idea about you. You know that, I think.” 

Was this an apology? Seb was confused. He narrowed his eyes slightly, uncertain. 

“I see now, in fact, it’s become startlingly clear, that James is the corrupting influence.”

“It’s Jim,” Seb grunted. “Not fucking James. Nobody calls him James.” 

“Jim’s control over your life is unhealthy.” 

“He doesn’t control me,” Sebastian argued. “We’re just compatible. You wouldn’t understand. You don’t know us.” 

“Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is let them go.” 

“But I…” 

“Do you want Jim to grow as an individual?” 

Sebastian faltered. 

“Yeah, but-“ 

“I can see you adore him. I don’t doubt you mean well, Sebastian, but this isn’t right. I should have stamped this out the moment I spotted it happening.” 

Verity had known very early on that Sebastian and Jim were too attached to each other. Within the first week of their meeting they’d been practically joined at the hip. She’d often caught them sitting together, Jim in Seb’s lap or otherwise climbing on or draping himself over him. Sebastian had taken to Jim very suddenly, like he’d never responded to anyone before.

“We would have got together anyway,” Seb grunted. “No matter what you did.”

Verity sighed and took another sip of coffee. 

“Look up codependence,” she said clearly, watching Sebastian over her coffee cup.

“No thanks.” 

“I think it’ll shed a lot of light on the situation.” 

Sebastian shifted in his seat. He wanted permission to leave, it seemed. But Verity wasn’t quite finished yet. 

“You need to tell me if he’s going to hurt himself, because it could mean the difference between living and dying,” she said bluntly. “You’re close to him, so you need to be the one to inform me.”

“He trusts me,” Seb protested. 

“Broken trust is easily repaired. A broken neck isn’t.” 

That was so true that Sebastian grimaced. 

“I know you want to join the army,” Verity continued. “I’ve spoken to your careers advisor.” 

“Yeah,” Seb admitted, hearing his own voice open up slightly, sound less gruff and defensive. 

“I think it’s a good idea.” 

His eyes widened. 

“You what?” 

“I think you need the space to develop as an individual.”

Seb shrugged his shoulders and scratched at his hip. His scar, his mark of ownership, was itching like hell at the moment, since Jim had recently gone over it with his penknife.

“I might not even do it. Jim needs me here. He doesn’t want me to go.” 

Verity pushed her coffee cup away. 

“What Jim needs is something you can’t give him.” 

Seb knew that was true, although he didn’t like to think about it. 

“He’s not crazy.” 

“I know.” 

“You don’t know. You don’t understand him. You never have.” 

Sebastian looked down at the ground and tried to stop his leg from twitching. He was getting stressed and that meant he needed to release the tension. 

“Understand him or not, I’m a trained mental health professional, and I know that he has a chemical imbalance and a number of diagnosed conditions. He needs intervention.” 

Sebastian’s head shot back up at that word. 

“You put him in the hospital and he’ll kill himself. Double suicide,” Seb threatened. 

“That sort of comment is what worries me, Sebastian,” Verity explained, fiddling with her silver necklace. “It isn’t normal. It’s not something that makes me particularly hopeful about his future, or yours. Are you going to continue your life worried that he’s going to end his?” 

“He’ll get better,” Sebastian insisted. 

“He’ll get better without you,” Verity corrected him bluntly. “No matter what you feel for each other, this codependency has to stop. If you care about Jim and his mental health at all, you’ll think about this, Sebastian. He needs to grow into an adult that can control his conditions. You’ve babied him since the start. Now he can’t cope.” 

Sebastian’s mouth gaped open, but he couldn’t make a single sound come out. 

“You may go now,” Verity said quietly. “Good luck with your exam revision, and I’d sort out your enlistment soon, if I were you.” 

The blond got up from his chair, nodded his head, glanced at Verity like he wanted to say something more, but suddenly thought better of it. He flexed his fingers, raised his chin, and stalked out of the room, back to Jim.


	84. Accident and Emergency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets bored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mental health, attempted suicide and language.

Sebastian went straight to the office from Sixth Form one day in mid-March. But Jim wasn’t there. He stuck around for twenty minutes or so, tidied up a bit, sorted through some papers, got rid of the biros that had run out, then decided to traipse back to the home. 

But Jim wasn’t there either. 

“You seen Jim?” Seb asked Verity, knocking on her door and sticking his head into her office. 

She frowned. “No, he hasn’t been home. I thought he was with you?” 

Seb looked in all the rooms, in the garden, checked everywhere twice, asked some of the kids if they’d seen him, then jogged down to the local park, the one with the pigeons. Jim liked to go there sometimes when he was feeling down, when he was stressed. 

There was no sign of him. The darkness was closing in now, and Sebastian was starting to feel concerned by Jim’s absence. He called Jim’s mobile, but predictably there was no answer.

He lit a cigarette and leaned against the fence surrounding the park, thinking. Probably Jim was staying late at school, he told himself. Probably briefing someone from his group. Setting up plans. Collecting info. Nothing to worry about. 

Twenty minutes and four cigarettes later, Sebastian’s mobile rang in his pocket. 

“Sebby, you’re going to be soooooo cross with me,” Jim’s voice said from the other end of the phone. It crackled as he spoke, although Seb knew that tone well enough. 

He narrowed his eyes fiercely. Jim sounded wrong. 

“What’ve you done? You alright?” he demanded, clutching his phone. 

“You said I had to warn you, ‘Bastian. So this is my warning.” 

Seb sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth. 

“Where are you?” he demanded. 

“I don’t feel well, ‘Bastian.” 

Sebastian could hear his heartbeat in his ears. His knuckles were white on his mobile phone as he started to run. Even though he didn’t know yet where he was headed. 

“You back at the office? You gone home? Jim?!” 

“Office, ‘Bastian,” Jim sighed down the phone. “Don’t be cross.” 

Then he hung up.

Sebastian sprinted all the way there.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Seb let himself in, shoving the door with his shoulder. He’d been expecting blood, maybe a razor. But all he saw was Jim sitting on the sofa, staring into the darkness. 

“Jim?” 

The Irish teen glanced over and tried to stand up. Sebastian became distinctly aware that there was something very wrong.

Jim was blinking far too slowly and his lids were so heavy that his eyes were almost closed. It seemed an effort to hold them open long enough to peer out at Sebastian, and even then it was with little recognition. 

“Jim? Oi! Jim? You alright?” 

Jim continued to gaze tiredly at him but didn’t speak. 

Panicking now, Sebastian looked around the room. On the desk was an opened bottle of pills. No, two bottles. Three, counting the one on the floor. All empty now. 

“What’ve you taken, Jim?” he asked, trying to force calm. “What’ve you taken?” 

Jim refused to respond. He stared down at his own pale hands looking confused. 

Sebastian tore over to the desk and snatched up the pill bottles, hastily reading the labels and mouthing the names to himself. He took out his phone and began to dial, chest heaving as he rang the hospital. 

But there was no signal from here. The office was terrible when it came to mobiles, and Jim had hidden the main phone. Seb didn’t have the time to go hunting for it. 

“Seb?” Jim whispered, now managing to stagger to his feet. He tried to make his way over to Seb, but he stumbled, and then collapsed into Sebastian’s arms, knees giving way weakly. 

“It’s alright,” Seb muttered, shoving one of the pill bottles into his pocket and scooping Jim up easily. He’d always been light, the right weight to carry. “I’ll sort it. I’ll sort it. I will…” 

He kicked opened the office door and carried Jim out, down the street, to the main road. Jim said nothing, didn’t even cling to him with his usual fierceness. It was like holding a kid. A sleepy kid.

Cars passed with honking horns and the usual jeers, whipping past in a rush, filling the air with exhaust fumes. Jim whimpered in Sebastian’s arms, and Seb kissed him on the forehead as he thought about what to do. 

He needed to hail a taxi, but he couldn’t get into the road with Jim in his arms. It was too risky. Jim could get hurt. Seb kissed Jim on the forehead again and set him down on the pavement. Jim didn’t even complain about getting dirty. He just slumped and watched. 

“Oi! Taxi!” Sebastian yelled, stepping halfway into the road and waving his arms about frantically. “Taxi! Fucking well stop, you cunt!” Several passed him, the drivers hooting and swearing, but finally one pulled up beside him. Seb raced to the window and tapped on the glass. 

“Taxi! Help! Taxi!” 

The man unwound his window and got the measure of the panicked blond. At first he’d assumed he was a drunk and had been meaning to give him a piece of his mind. Then he noticed the pale boy slumped on the pavement behind him. 

“Your mate don’t look too-“ 

Sebastian cut him off, panting. “Nearest hospital. Don’t care how much. He needs the hospital. I’ve got cash.” 

“I’ve clocked off,” the man said, taking another look at the slumped boy. 

“Please,” Seb begged. “He’s my mate. He’s taken something. Please. Fucking please.” 

The driver sighed and nodded his head. He was an East End man, with a heavy cockney accent, and wore a grey cap on his thinning hair. 

“Cheers!” Seb breathed out. He went to pick up Jim and carried him into the back of the cab, slamming the door behind them and not strapping them in. 

The driver pressed down on the accelerator and they sped off through London. 

Sebastian laid Jim out on his lap. He was barely conscious now, but he kept his eyes on Seb when he could. The jerky movements of the speeding cab seemed to be keeping him awake.

“I’ve got you,” Seb mumbled, not caring they had an audience. The bloke in the front of the car could call them fags if he wanted. Seb didn’t give a shit. “I’ve got you, yeah? It’s gonna be alright.” 

Jim didn’t respond. 

Seb stroked Jim’s hair and caressed his cheeks, trying to get him to focus on something. “Don’t cry, I’m gonna get you fixed, okay?” he promised lowly. “Try and stay awake, Jim. Please. You need to stay awake.” 

But Jim’s eyes were fluttering closed already. 

Seb yanked him up roughly and clutched him against his chest, trying to prop him up, hoping it might keep him conscious for longer. 

“C’mon, Jim. C’mon. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be alright. I promise. I promise, yeah? And I don’t lie to you. I wouldn’t lie. It’s fine. We’re gonna be fine. Just stay awake. Please. This is my fucking fault, but I’ll fix it.”

Jim’s skin felt hot, unusual for him. When Seb kissed his forehead he could feel the heat radiating from his skin. 

The taxi driver didn’t charge Sebastian for the journey. He pulled up right at the front of the nearest hospital and wished him luck. Then he disappeared off into the night, leaving the boys alone. 

“We’re here, okay?” Seb mumbled as he lifted Jim back into his arms and raced towards the Accident and Emergency department. But Jim was like a rag doll now. He’d fallen unconscious already. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian almost got into a fight in the waiting room, when Jim had been wheeled off on a bed to have his stomach pumped. The doctor wouldn’t allow Sebastian past the double doors. Relatives only, he’d said. 

It wasn’t good enough for Seb. He punched the wall in his frustration and growled. Then he’d been warned he’d have to leave unless he calmed down by a beefy security guard. 

Seb had only restrained himself from punching the man full in the face because he felt a comforting hand on his arm. He looked down, ready to snap at whoever had dared to touch him, and saw a wizened little old woman, with a kind smile and a face so wrinkled that it resembled a brown paper bag. 

“Come and sit with me, young man,” she offered quietly, and led him to the seating area where various members of the public were looking tired, drunk, or stressed. 

For some reason he responded to this old woman. He slumped down in the uncomfortable blue plastic chair and hunched over, eyes on the ground. 

“So what seems to be the problem?” she asked in a voice thin with age. 

“Mate took an overdose,” Seb grunted, cracking his knuckles. 

“The handsome one with the black hair?” 

“Yeah,” Sebastian nodded. “One I carried in unconscious,” he added sarcastically. 

He felt bad for snapping at her a moment after the words left his mouth, but she just nodded and patted his arm comfortingly. 

Seb couldn’t stop wringing his hands and tapping his trainers on the floor, fists clenching and then flexing again. 

“Young people tend to bounce back,” the old woman said kindly. “You mark my words, he’ll be right as rain in no time at all.” 

“But what if-“ 

“No use for ‘what ifs’,” she said softly. “What’s done is done. No point in dwelling on it.” 

Seb fell silent. The double doors swung open and he sprung to his feet, but it was only a paramedic. He sank back down into his chair with a grunt of frustration. 

“Patience,” the old lady advised. 

“Can’t relax. Not with him in there.” 

“If it’s any consolation….what was your name?”

“Seb. S’bastian.” 

“If it’s any consolation, Sebastian,” the old woman repeated. “And that’s a lovely name. A saint’s name. My husband is behind the doors too.” 

Seb lifted his head. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, not really meaning it. He didn’t have the capacity to care about anyone else right now. Jim was a corridor away from him with a tube shoved down his throat. People he didn’t know had their hands all over him, and it made Seb feel ill. 

“We’re old,” the elderly woman said with a smile. “It happens. He’s dying, I’m afraid.” 

She spoke with such calm, gentle, certainty that Seb felt his stomach lurch. 

“Don’t look so stricken, young man,” the woman laughed kindly. “Fred’s had a long life. We’ve been expecting this to happen for some time now.” 

“Don’t you want to be with him? If you’re married, you can go through,” Seb pointed out. He felt a spike of bitterness down his spine as he remembered that as Jim’s boyfriend, he wasn’t allowed in. 

“There’s nothing I can do,” the old lady said. “When the operation is over, I’ll say my goodbyes. But for now, he needs his space.” 

Seb swallowed thickly. 

“Jim’s not gonna die,” he announced, more for his own peace of mind than anything else. 

“Of course he isn’t,” she agreed. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Seb admitted, for some reason wanting to tell someone. 

The old woman broke into a soft smile, which made her face seem younger, more radiant. 

“Ah, I thought so,” she said. “I can always tell.” 

“How?”

“My brother Sid. God rest his soul. He wasn’t a ladies’ man. Not at all.” 

Sensing someone sympathetic to his cause, Sebastian curled his lips up into a snarl and shook his head with a sniff. 

“Won’t let me into the fucking… sorry, won’t let me into the bloody room. Not fair.” 

She nodded and patted him once again on the arm. “Life isn’t fair, I’m afraid. When you get to my age you’ll see. Our opinions don’t count for much either.”

Sebastian sniffed and scratched at the back of his neck. He liked this old lady. He trusted her. He thought that if angels were real, this was what they’d be like. Hidden in everyday people you might pass on the street or at the bus stop. 

They sat together in companionable silence as new patients arrived and new relatives were ushered to the seats. The old woman spoke to some of them, but Seb didn’t even look up. He needed Jim. Needed him right now. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted suddenly, the weight of his words making his shoulders slump as he turned to his companion. 

“Well, I’ll do my best to advise you,” the woman said kindly. Her eyes were so honest, and Seb was so tired, that he decided to voice his concerns. 

“I want to join the army,” he explained, clearing his throat. “Could enlist this year if I wanted.”

“A noble calling,” she agreed with deep approval. “My Fred fought as well.” 

“While you were together?” 

“Yes. We were married as sweethearts. I had to watch him go off to war. Broke my young heart, Sebastian. But in the end we got through it. We tend to do that, us humans. Especially the British, I find. It’s in our spirit.” 

Seb licked his lips and thought on that. 

“Jim might stop loving me if I go,” he said quietly. 

“Nonsense,” the old woman said softly. “True love isn’t so easy to discard. I was furious at Fred when he left me, but I learned to live without him. You see, in a way I think it helped us. Because we realised how very much we missed each other when we were apart.” 

She smiled with remembrance, and Sebastian felt sad just watching her. She’d been young once. In love the way Seb was with Jim. And now her husband was dying just down the corridor. 

“You think I should enlist?” he asked, watching her with his pained blue eyes. 

“I think you should do what your heart tells you is right,” she told him. “Love endures, in the end. No matter what obstacles you face.” She suddenly laughed quietly. “I know to you I must seem like I stupid old fool, but I still remember being young.” 

“Don’t seem stupid,” Seb said quietly. 

“Sometimes, a bit of space can do wonders for a relationship,” she added, just as the double doors burst open again. 

“Sebastian Moran?” the young nurse read from her list. 

Seb got to his feet immediately. “Yeah? That’s me. Is he alright?” 

“If you’d come with me please,” she said sounding bored. “He’s sleeping now. But he’ll be fine.” 

“You send him my best wishes, won’t you?” said Edna Birch, the old woman, with a soft smile. 

Seb nodded and followed the young nurse down to the ward.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim opened his eyes. He felt weak, boneless, but also too heavy. His stomach ached and his throat was sore. The smell was wrong. Disinfectant and cheap fabrics. He was in the hospital. It was morning. Light was streaming through the thin curtains covering the window at the end of the ward.

He frowned and spotted Sebastian sleeping on a hospital chair beside him with his head resting on the bed. He was snoring softly, a slight trail of dribble from his lips leaving a tiny damp patch on the bedsheets. Jim reached out a hand weakly and stroked his blond hair. It needed a wash. 

So loyal, Jim thought. Even now. Even after what he’d done. 

“Jim?” Seb said as he woke up, raising his head. 

He looked so tired. Exhausted and drained and awful. His face was pale and his blue eyes were sadder than Jim had ever seen them. 

“I’m so sorry,” Seb murmured. His voice cracked and he wiped his mouth. “Jim, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

Jim opened his arms, although the movement was an effort, and Seb was there in an instant. He carefully climbed onto the bed and rested his cheek against Jim’s chest, against the blue hospital gown that smelled so clinical and wrong and cheap against Jim’s skin. It shouldn’t be touching him, Seb thought. Jim was above this ordinary shit. He wasn’t a mere member of the public. He was special.

Jim stared wordlessly at the ceiling as he cradled his boyfriend, in a reversal of their usual roles. He didn’t want to die anymore. It had been an impulse at the time. A stupid, reckless impulse to stop his mind from racing and raging and screaming. He’d been bored, and lonely, and needed something to make it all stop. 

“My fault,” Seb breathed out. “So fucking sorry, Jim.” 

Sebastian had been there all night, and he’d been terrified. Jim knew from the smell of sweat coming off him, from his thumbs, the pads of which were both pinched bloody, from his hair, messed up from hands running nervously through it. His knuckles were healing from recent scrapes. He’d punched something, then, in his despair. Something that wasn’t a person.

His warm weight was comforting, even if he was in need of a shower and looked terrible. Jim supposed he must look pretty bad too, although he hadn’t yet seen himself. 

“Hush,” he whispered, his voice scratchy and thin. It hurt when he spoke, probably because of the tube they’d shoved down his throat. He supposed having his stomach pumped was always bound to be painful. He hadn’t thought of that when he’d swallowed the tablets. 

“Love you. Fucking love you,” Seb muttered, kissing Jim’s chest through the hospital gown. “Thought you’d…. thought you’d…” 

Jim shushed him again and stroked his hair. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Verity arrived to the sight of a broken Sebastian Moran, protectively curled against Jim, who looked like a ghost, pale and exhausted and empty, seeming oddly out of place on the hospital bed.

“Should you be here?” Verity said from the doorway, knowing that Sebastian was supposed to be at Sixth Form. 

She’d contacted the local hospitals when Jim and Sebastian hadn’t returned the previous night. It didn’t surprise her that Jim had acted on a suicidal impulse at all. Although she did think it was a shame Sebastian had to witness the aftermath. 

Seb glanced at her, shot her such a look that she felt intimidated, and then closed his eyes again. Jim was stroking his hair. Petting him like he was the owner of a very large cat.

“Are they keeping him in?” Verity asked? “Has he been sectioned?” 

“Fuck off,” Sebastian murmured, voice muffled by Jim’s hospital gown. “Just fuck off and leave us alone.” 

“Sebastian, you have Sixth Form. They’ve already called me.” 

“They can go to hell!” Sebastian snapped, simultaneously seeming to snuggle closer to Jim, who looked on the brink of falling asleep. 

“I expect you to attend this afternoon,” Verity said after a moment. “Stay here for the morning if you need to.” 

“Fuck off,” Seb said quietly. “Just fuck off and leave us alone.”

Verity paused. 

“Is there anything you need?” she asked, attempting to speak softly, although the tone ended up slightly patronising. 

“Yeah, for you to fuck off,” Seb grunted. “Jim doesn’t need you here stressing him out.”

Verity took another look at James Moriarty. They’d be keeping him in the psychiatric unit for sure. She knew how this worked well enough by now. He’d be hospitalised for at least a week, perhaps longer, depending on his progress.

“Sixth Form,” she reminded Sebastian, as she left and closed the door behind her. 

But Seb was on edge now. He felt judged, felt guilty. Verity had predicted this would happen. She’d known it was coming. Was it his fault? Was it because they were too close? Was he hindering Jim’s personal growth, or whatever it was Verity had said?

The old woman from the waiting room thought that time apart was good for a couple. Seb supposed it gave both parties space to breathe. He and Jim were intense at the best of times, even he could admit it. 

But could he really leave Jim? Should he? Was it the right thing to do? 

He tried to leave you, the dark voice inside of Sebastian’s head told him. He tried to leave you with those pills. He needs help. Help you can’t give him…

“Love you,” Seb told Jim, but he got no answer. Jim was asleep.


	85. Hospitalisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is hospitalised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of mental health.

On the first day of his forced hospitalisation, Jim sulked. He refused to talk to anyone, refused his food, and wouldn’t even converse with Sebastian when he arrived straight from Sixth Form, still in his uniform and lugging his school bag along with him. 

The hospital made Jim feel ill. It was too noisy, too full of people, too dirty and smelly and restrictive. His stomach ached along with his throat, and all he wanted to do was sleep, although his racing mind wouldn’t let him. 

He kept on hearing voices, indistinct and whispering. Calling him names. Insane. Broken. Worthless. 

Usually, when this happened, Sebastian was able to calm him down or distract him. Sebastian’s own answering whispers in his ears made everything better, because they argued with the voices. As the voices told Jim he was worthless and unlovable, Sebastian would tell him he loved him. When the voices told him there was nothing worth living for and he’d never get better, Sebastian told him everything was going to be alright, that he was there for him. Seb could kiss him until he was able to blot the voices out, he could stroke his hair and soothe him. 

But Sebastian couldn’t be with him now. He had Sixth Form and revision, and visiting hours weren’t until four. 

Jim wanted to be at home or in the office with Sebastian. He despised being reliant on people, ordinary people especially, having his independence stripped away from him. The only person he needed in the world was Sebastian, and that was that. He glared at the nurses and ignored the doctor, even when they made him swallow his medication. 

Seb stayed for three hours on that first day, as long as he was possibly able. He massaged Jim’s feet, talked to him, even though he didn’t get a response. He read Jim his revision worksheets and stroked his dark hair. Jim sat quietly and corrected Sebastian’s essay drafts while Sebastian lay on the bed with him and tried to make the best of the situation. 

He didn’t mention Jim’s teary eyes, which Jim was thankful for. 

Jim noticed that Sebastian looked horrendously tired, like a ghost of himself, drained of colour. He seemed grey. It was times like this when Jim wondered if he and Sebastian were really the same person, if perhaps they were linked so strongly that Jim’s feelings and weakness and illness had seeped through to bleed Sebastian dry as well.

But then Jim reminded himself that the idea was nonsense and felt cross for thinking of it. He’d been thinking a lot of odd things since they changed his medication.

Sebastian kissed him lightly on the lips before he went, although Jim didn’t really kiss back properly. Jim felt too disgusting to do so, dirty from the hospital, completely vile. He didn’t want Sebastian to find out. 

That night he missed Sebastian’s snoring, and his limbs that managed to splay out in every direction, his warm body and his comforting heartbeat when Jim lay his head on Sebastian’s chest.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

On the second day Jim slept on and off throughout Sebastian’s visit. He’d been pumped with new drugs that seemed to be sedating him. Seb sat loyally by his side and kept watch. He didn’t trust the hospital staff. Hadn’t trusted them since he’d been sent to the hospital as a child, bruised and scarred and broken. 

They didn’t know Jim. They didn’t understand him. And Sebastian didn’t like that they were in charge of his care. If he had his way, he’d be at the hospital day and night to make sure they were treating Jim properly, but Verity had forbidden it, and he needed his A-levels.

Seb plumped up Jim’s pillows, kissed him on the forehead and left him some magazines he’d bought. Most of them were scientific, but some of them were fashion related, just so Jim could take a look at the suits. Seb thought he might get a kick out of seeing the designer clothes. 

Seb reckoned the hospital staff didn’t like him much. They thought he was trouble, and made no secret of it. Nurses kept checking on him and asking him if he was okay. He never talked to them unless he had to. Jim would see it as a betrayal, he knew, and Sebastian didn’t owe politeness to anyone. 

Before he left, Jim opened his eyes weakly. He blinked at Sebastian, appeared to focus on his blue eyes, and allowed Seb to kiss him. Sebastian tasted of cigarettes, which was comforting, but the kiss was too short and then Sebastian was gone. 

Jim got the impression he was being encouraged to stay away from him. Jim would have been furious, but he found he was too tired for that. All he wanted was to rest. 

Then he fell asleep again.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

On the third day Jim was slightly better. He sat up in his bed and Seb fed him grapes and slices of apple. Seb brought in a chess board, because Jim had been teaching him how to play before he’d been hospitalised.

Jim was better at chess by far, but Sebastian was proud that he managed to put up some good competition. Even Jim seemed impressed, despite his exhaustion. 

“You’re very strategic,” Jim had commented in a quiet voice, one of his few remarks of the evening. His tone was raspy from lack of use and lower than usual. 

“You think?” 

Jim nodded and moved his black piece, the queen, to win the game. 

“Checkmate,” he said mournfully, before swiping all the pieces off the board with his pale arm. Seb would put the pieces away for him.

But he couldn’t draw any joy from his victory. He was bored. And Sebastian wasn’t quite clever enough. 

He wouldn’t ever be. 

That evening, before Seb left, Jim kissed him properly, and didn’t seem to want him to go. He watched him stalk back down the corridor and wished he could be going with him.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

On the fourth day Jim and Sebastian watched a film in one of the hospital entertainment rooms for the use of the patients in the psychiatric ward. It was a war film, in black and white, so Seb enjoyed it. Jim didn’t really, but he snuggled against Sebastian’s side and intertwined their fingers. 

He was having one of his better days and had started accepting his food again. The nurses seemed pleased.

Seb kept getting excitable over the tactics and grinning as the bombs went off and guns were fired. Jim watched him every so often, and was dismayed by the pure joy and fascination on his features as he followed the progress of the black and white soldiers.

Jim still felt tired and sick because of his new medication, but he had moments of feeling like himself again, moments of anger at his predicament, fury at his captors and the ordinary, disgusting people he was stuck in a ward with. 

He had a list, or so he told Sebastian, of the nurses and doctors he intended to kill in the future. He’d do it carefully, he said, stagger the deaths, make it seem random. But they had to go, he reasoned, because anybody that laughed at him or belittled him had to die. It was his rule.

Jim let Sebastian leave with a page of carefully scrawled instructions; work that had to be done, papers that had to be collected and filed. The phone calls he could make himself from his mobile, but there was a limit to the resources he could use from the hospital, and it was risky to be talking about his illegal activity in the hearing of other patients.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

On the fifth day, Jim had started to panic about his work. The moment Sebastian arrived he fixed him with a glare, looking exhausted, grumpy, and generally bad-tempered. He was sitting up in his cheap hospital bed glaring daggers at everything that caught his eyes. Sebastian noticed how thin and gaunt Jim looked, and the purpling shadows beneath his eyes that meant he still wasn’t sleeping well enough, despite his tablets.

“I can’t lose my contacts,” Jim fumed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Seb stepped up to Jim’s bed and closed the plain hospital curtains around them, giving them a touch more privacy. 

“You won’t. I called them, like you said,” he explained, trying to keep his tone calm to soothe Jim out of his anger. 

“And you didn’t deviate at all from what I instructed?”

“Did it word for word,” he promised. 

Jim let out a huff of breath and kicked out at the bed sheets. He was feeling lethargic and wild and incredibly wrong. Seeing Sebastian was the highlight of his day, but he couldn’t fight off the intense sensations of mania and depression. 

“They can’t find out I’m here,” he declared firmly, scratching at his inner arms.

“They won’t,” Seb said gently, moving to sit with Jim. “Besides, the deal in Syria went ahead anyway. No problems at all.” 

“They told you there were no problems,” Jim corrected him. “I need to see the results for myself.” 

“Look, it’s fine,” Sebastian sighed, stretching and yawning. “I sorted it.” 

His laid back attitude did nothing for Jim’s confidence in him. Livid at Sebastian’s apparent non-concern for the business he was so carefully building up, Jim gave him a quick slap in the back of the head. 

“You’re flawed,” he said sharply. “You might have got something wrong. I need to do it myself. I have to get out of here. Do you understand me, darling? Do you?” 

“Well, I’m the best you’ve got at the minute,” Seb shot back, starting to flare up in return. He never liked being slapped. Jim supposed it probably made him feel weak. “And I’m doing my fucking best for you, so it’d be nice if you’d show me some damn gratitude once in a while.”

Jim narrowed his eyes. 

“I’ve done everything you said,” Seb insisted. “To the letter. You think I’d let you down?” 

“Not deliberately,” Jim admitted. 

“Well then.” 

Jim sulked for a few more minutes and then allowed himself to lean against Sebastian. 

“I have more instructions for you,” Jim announced, swallowing back his biting insults and complaints. Sebastian was doing his best, he supposed. “You’ll get everything on the list done to the best of your ability, and you’ll come back here tomorrow with results.” 

“I’ve got coursework,” Seb protested, but Jim shook his head and glared again. 

“Learn to multitask,” he hissed. “I’ve got people waiting on this from three continents. It’s been in the planning for months. Don’t you dare ruin this for me because you’re lazy.”

Seb’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, before nodding his head wearily. 

“Alright, I’ll do it.” 

“And to say thank you,” Jim added generously. “I’ll go through the new coursework for you and make sure you’re not getting too romantic or descriptive in your essays, because as I’ve told you a hundred times already, they aren’t looking for a new Shakespeare, they want you to adhere to the mark scheme and not waste your word count.” 

Sebastian made a vague grunting noise. 

“Do I stink of the hospital?” Jim demanded, sniffing himself. To him, he smelled of hospital food and the clinical scent of the ward. 

“Smell fine to me,” Seb said tiredly. Jim could see his boyfriend was desperate to sleep. Poor darling was incredibly stressed. 

But then Jim remembered that Sebastian was free and he wasn’t. He remembered that he’d have to face the night alone, and although that wasn’t Sebastian’s fault, it made him cross and resentful.

Jim pouted and decided to go back to his sulking.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

After a week, Jim was feeling well enough to dress himself in his casual clothes and brush his hair. Instead of sleeping all day and staying in bed, he sat cross-legged on the mattress, writing in his leather bound notebook and reading the magazines Sebastian left for him. 

Seb arrived looking flushed, which meant he’d jogged to the hospital today. Jim knew he’d have been out of breath after a minute of running, but somehow, Sebastian could keep it up for half an hour or more. He was like a machine, really, Jim mused. He also smelled pleasantly of sweat and deodorant and aftershave, a nice perk of him exercising. 

Seeing Jim looking so much like his usual self, Sebastian gave him a grin as he ditched his bag on the floor, closed the curtains, and went to sit beside him. 

“You’re happy,” Jim commented suspiciously. 

“Got news for you,” Seb revealed. 

“Good news?” 

“Dawn’s pregnant. Little boy apparently.” 

Seb had found out in a letter that had arrived that morning. Dawn could have called, but she knew how highly Sebastian valued his letters. Seb liked to keep them so he could read them over and over to remind himself that Dawn still thought of him and cared. Jim often teased Sebastian for tucking them neatly away in a box under his bed, but he understood that Sebastian was far more sentimental than he’d ever be. For some reason those scruffy notes he received meant something to him, and Jim wasn’t going to ruin that, even if he thought the notion was absurd.

“That’s not good news,” Jim said, poking Seb on the nose.

“Is for her. She’s pretty chuffed. Four months, she says. Didn’t want to tell anyone, though. Her and Raj wanted to keep it quiet.” 

“And she’s staying in India, I presume?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jim frowned with distaste. 

“I think India sounds great,” Seb admitted. 

“You would,” Jim sighed, shaking his head with affectionate disapproval. Seb didn’t understand what he meant. He kissed Jim on the cheek in greeting and settled back against the headboard, getting comfortable. 

“They said any more about when you can leave?” Seb asked. 

Jim nodded. 

“I’m being reassessed by a psychiatrist at the end of the week.” 

“You think they’ll let you out?” 

“I know they will,” Jim confessed. “I’ve been rehearsing my lines.” 

Seb raised an eyebrow. 

Jim smirked right back at him and then widened his eyes, batting his lashes in a theatrical imitation of innocence, placing his hands coyly over his heart. 

“Oh, Dr Mansfield. I don’t know what came over me! I’ve regretted it ever since. I’m so glad you kept me in because it’s settled my brain and the new drugs are working wonders! I don’t think I’ll ever hurt myself again!” 

“But do you feel better?” Seb asked curiously, trying to get the measure of Jim. Sometimes it was tough to see where the acting stopped and the emotions beneath began. Although Seb thought that was why Jim did it in the first place, to make that distinction almost impossible, even to the person who knew him best.

“Of course,” Jim said, back to normal in an instant. He glanced around at his surroundings with his usual distaste and grimaced at nobody in particular. He placed his magazine on the bedside table and sat back next to Sebastian. 

“I’m glad you’re happy for Dawn,” Jim remarked generously, kissing Seb on his neck. “God, I used to want to hate her.” 

Sebastian sighed but Jim only chuckled with remembrance. 

“At first, I thought you fancied her,” he admitted, pale fingers playing with Sebastian’s t-shirt idly.

Seb screwed up his features. 

“No way, she’s nice and all, but she’s like my-“

“Like your sister,” Jim finished for him, nodding. “I know that now. I worked that out a long time ago.” 

“So did you fancy me that early, then?” 

Jim pondered that, humming away as he thought. 

He remembered dreaming of Sebastian at night, and thinking of Sebastian in the day, and wanting to tell Sebastian whenever he did something especially clever. Most of all, he remembered wanting to own him. To completely possess him so nobody else could ever have him. 

“Not fancy, no,” Jim finally said. “I just wanted you. More than anything else.” 

“Same thing, isn’t it?” 

Jim tutted and kissed the spot right beneath the sharp line of Sebastian’s jaw.

“Not at all.” 

For a while they sat in silence. Seb draped an arm around Jim and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of his lips against his skin, the occasional nip of teeth. Jim seemed to like his throat. It was the place he most enjoyed kissing Sebastian, sometimes softly, sometimes furiously with bites and scrapes of his teeth. Seb didn’t mind either way. Gentle or rough, it was all Jim. 

“So what does she intend to call the sprog?” Jim asked quietly. 

“Not a clue.” 

“If you were naming it, what would you choose?” 

Sebastian paused in thought. 

“What? Naming it for Dawn?” 

“Does it matter who you’re naming it for?” 

“Yeah. You’ve got to think about personality and things. What the kid might look like. If they’ll get teased for it when they grow up.” 

“Alright,” Jim agreed, now sucking a bruise onto Sebastian’s neck. “Forget it’s for Dawn. Just tell me your favourite baby names.” 

“Why, we gonna adopt?” Seb teased. 

Jim gave him a shove with his pointy elbow and Seb grinned. 

“Luke’s a good name,” Seb said. 

“You’re only saying that because of Star Wars.” 

“Still a good name,” Sebastian insisted. 

Jim rolled his eyes affectionately. 

“Go on. Anything else?” 

“Er… David?” 

“For your beloved alien-eyed Bowie?” 

Seb nodded. 

“Any more?” 

The blond paused and tried not to get too distracted by the way Jim was licking at his neck. 

“Alex is alright.” 

“Any reason?”

“Just like the sound of it.” 

“Hm.” 

Jim’s breath was warm against Seb’s skin, comforting. It sent a shiver up Sebastian’s spine. 

“So what’s your favourite, then?” Seb asked, trying to make the most of Jim’s talkative mood. “If you had to choose.” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Jim asked. 

“Nope.” 

Jim sighed again, long and lingering. 

“It’s Sebastian, of course.” 

“’Cause of me?” 

“No, because of Johann Sebastian Bach,” Jim said sarcastically rolling his eyes. “Obviously because of you.”

Sebastian was touched. He smiled and sniffed. 

“Cheers, Jim.” 

“I like the way it sounds when I say it,” Jim continued thoughtfully. 

“So do I,” Seb agreed, thinking of that lazy Irish drawl when they were in bed together, the way Jim drew out the ‘ba’, the way he breathed the word out and rolled it on his tongue. Seb thought of the way Jim mewled it just before he came and trembled in his arms. 

“Of course, when you say it, you take away all the beauty,” Jim declared, nipping at Sebastian earlobe. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“You say ‘S’bastian.’” 

“That’s how you pronounce it.” 

“No, that’s your London accent. It’s Se-bas-ti-an. Not S-bastian.” 

“Se-bas-ti-an sounds too posh.” 

“Well you are posh,” Jim reminded his boyfriend sternly. “Your family were very posh. Poor darling, growing up the way you did. But at least you’re not a snob, hm?” 

Jim seemed to give up on talking after a while. Instead he kissed the spot beneath Sebastian’s ear and then crawled into his lap, straddling him and leisurely kissing him, arms draped around his neck.

“Do you know what?” Jim breathed out, tilting his head to one side. 

“What?” 

“We should fuck.” 

Seb grinned but shook his head. 

“Yeah, bet the nurses’ll love that. Right in the middle of the kids ward.” 

“Not here, Sebastian Moron,” Jim sang quietly, pecking Seb on the tip of his nose. “We could find a nice private little spot, somewhere secluded…” 

Jim trailed his fingers over Seb’s chest but Sebastian caught his hands. 

“Don’t have lube or condoms on me.” 

“So we’ll do something a bit simpler, hm?” 

“Jim-“ 

Jim pouted at Seb suggestively and wriggled in his lap until Sebastian finally gave in and laughed. He still looked tired though, Jim noticed. 

“Fine. I’m guessing you want me to suck you off?” Seb asked.

“So romantic, but yes, that will do. How do you feel about the supply cupboard?” 

Seb shrugged. He was so laid back when it came to sex now that it made Jim want to grin. He remembered that Sebastian had once blushed at the mere mention of the act. Now he was perfectly happy to shag Jim on command, to casually give him a hand job or suck him off. He’d get down on his knees without a hint of embarrassment, even offer to do absolutely filthy things to him when Jim claimed he was feeling bored. 

He was exceptionally brilliant as a lover in that way. He liked his orders and he also liked to please.

“Anywhere’ll do me.” 

Jim smirked and kissed Seb deeply. The curtains were drawn around his bed, although he didn’t really care if they were caught snogging. It would probably give the nurses a good shock. 

“I really, really miss your cock,” Jim declared, stroking Seb’s stubbly cheek. 

“Good.” 

“I mean it. It’s very special indeed.” 

Seb looked a bit bemused by that, although he grinned crookedly. 

“Yours is better,” he said. 

“Yours is bigger,” Jim sang back. 

“Guess that’s good for me, though, you being a bit smaller.” 

Jim leaned back slightly to get a proper look at Sebastian. He tilted his head to one side. 

“Oh?” 

“Well, yeah. I mean, the amount of time I spend with your cock in my mouth, I’d be likely to choke otherwise.” 

The Irish teen paused and then started to giggle, shaking with amusement. Seb stroked his sides and then Jim fell on him in a hug. 

Sebastian loved it when Jim was like this, affectionate and giggly and warm. Like this, Seb could almost forget that Jim was stuck in the hospital, that he rang him crying in the night, sometimes experiencing psychosis, that he was being pumped with drugs to sedate him, that at night, Sebastian slept by himself, not able to rest properly or relax in case Jim needed him.

“Love you,” Seb mumbled, running his palms over Jim’s back. 

Jim kissed him on the forehead and smiled. 

“Love you too, sweetheart. Things will be alright once I’m out of here, won’t they? You’ll make them alright?” 

Seb didn’t know what he could do, but he nodded. 

“Try my best,” he said loyally. 

Jim kissed Sebastian deeply once again and pressed himself against his body. 

“Supply cupboard now? Hm?” 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed, hands moving to Jim’s hips. “Might as well.”


	86. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is freed from the hospital at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of mental health.

Jim was freed one week later, having displayed a ‘dramatic improvement’ in attitude and temperament. Just as planned, he played his role to perfection and somehow managed to convince his therapist and psychiatrist that his suicidal actions had been a one-off, something never to be repeated. 

Sebastian was impressed by the dedication Jim gave to his performance. Having heard Jim talk of the gory deaths the hospital staff would be subjected to in the years to come, it was unnerving to see Jim shake their hands and thank them for caring for him on the afternoon Sebastian came to pick him up from the ward. 

The moment they were out of sight, Jim grimaced and wiped his hands on Sebastian’s t-shirt. He was far thinner than he should have been, Seb noticed, which meant he’d found a way to get out of eating without the hospital staff noticing. 

“I’m never going back there again,” Jim commented as they walked to the bus stop. Sebastian was lugging Jim’s case for him, and Jim was walking one step ahead, relishing his freedom. 

“Good,” Seb said. 

“No,” Jim declared, shooting Sebastian an odd look from over his shoulder. “I’m not going back there. Never.” 

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders and then nodded.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When they got home, the first thing Jim did was have a long bath. Sebastian ran it for him, made it bubbly, just the way he liked it, and sat on the bathroom floor while Jim reclined in the tub with a sigh. 

Jim scrubbed at himself until his skin was sore and Sebastian had to intervene. He didn’t like the hospital germs, he said. He felt contaminated, and so Sebastian washed him over gently with the soap until Jim was content enough to get out. 

Seb wrapped him in a towel reverently and didn’t comment on the jut of Jim’s hipbones. 

Back in the bedroom, Seb unpacked Jim’s case while Jim selected clothes to wear. He picked a pair of Sebastian’s old jogging bottoms and a plain t-shirt. 

In the bottom of Jim’s case was a bag full of boxes of tablets. Seb frowned at them. After Jim’s overdose he didn’t like Jim having access to that sort of weapon to be used against himself. Were the hospital staff complete fucking idiots? 

Seb examined the boxes and frowned at the names. He didn’t recognise them, but he tried to commit them to memory so he could look them up later.  


“Oh, so you’ve found my magic beans,” Jim commented as he dried his dark hair with a hand towel. He was sitting on Sebastian’s bed and swinging his pale feet. Jim chuckled and peered at the way his boyfriend was squinting at the pill boxes. 

“You shouldn’t have this stuff,” Sebastian muttered, still reading. 

“I know, you’d have rather I brought home a cow,” Jim drawled. 

Sebastian ignored him and picked up the second box of tablets. 

“You’re supposed to be taking all of these?” Seb asked. 

“Why? Are you planning on being my nurse?” Jim asked with a seductive eyebrow raise. He often tried to distract Seb like that, but Sebastian had a fiercely strong will when he needed it. 

“How many a day?” 

“There are four types,” Jim admitted with a sigh. “Two in the morning and two at night. Happy now?” 

“Do they have side effects?” 

“Obviously.” 

Seb reached for the third packet. Jim glared at him as he carefully read the entire boring leaflet that had been enclosed in the tiny cardboard box. 

“It says suicidal impulses, vomiting, nausea, and diarrhea are common side effects,” Seb pointed out, tone disapproving. 

Jim shrugged his shoulders. 

“Apparently that’s normal.” 

“And they expect you to take this stuff every day?” 

“Yes.” 

“How are you supposed to get better if you’re feeling like shit all the time?” 

Jim didn’t like to talk about the more disgusting of his bodily functions. It made him feel too human. He didn’t like being reminded that despite having an exceptional mind, he still needed to defecate like ever other ordinary moron on the planet. 

“Can we not talk about it?” he asked. But Seb didn’t look ready to drop the subject. 

“Is it making you sick?” 

“Sebby,” Jim whined. 

“Is it?” 

Jim looked guilty and then nodded. 

“A bit. Only in the mornings.” 

“Christ,” Seb breathed out. 

Jim didn’t like the expression on his face. It was too close to pity. And he didn’t want that. So he left his towel on Sebastian’s bed and danced over to where his boyfriend was seated on the bedroom floor beside his open case.

“You don’t think I’m disgusting, do you, Sebby? Hm?” 

“’Course not,” Seb grunted as Jim found his way onto Sebastian’s lap to tried his best to distract him again. 

But Sebastian was not that easily deterred. 

“I’m gonna ring your doctor,” he announced.

“Why?” Jim sighed, kissing Seb playfully on the cheek. 

“Because I don’t want you on this stuff.” 

“This stuff,” Jim said, plucking the leaflet out of Seb’s calloused fingers. “Is going to fix my nasty brain. Don’t you want that?” 

Sebastian chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. 

“Doesn’t seem right,” he muttered. 

“Are you going to throw my magic beans out of the window? Hm? You don’t want to do that, sweetheart, because the problem will grow. And once the beanstalk’s big and tall, the ogre could climb down and grind our bones to make his bread.” 

Sebastian frowned because this was clearly all a joke to Jim. He hated this side of him, when he slipped fairytales into real life, tried to blend his fantasy realm with reality. Seb was stressed as hell, needed to make sure Jim was okay, and all Jim wanted was to tease him. 

The blond was convinced Jim had lied to the mental health team, because there was no way they could have sent him home otherwise. 

“Did you tell them the truth?” Seb demanded. 

Jim rolled his eyes and feigned indignation. 

“Of course.” 

“Did you really? Voices and everything. The dark thoughts? The times when you want to hurt yourself?” 

“Yes,” Jim lied. “Of course I did. What do you take me for?” 

Sebastian seemed mildly pacified by that. He glanced at the tablets and placed them back in their pharmacy bag. 

“How long are they going to make you sick for?” he asked more quietly. His tone was kind again. 

“A few weeks,” Jim responded airily, playing with Sebastian’s hair. 

“And you’re still going to go to school?” 

“Obviously.” 

“Obviously?” 

“I have work to do. And speaking of work, I’ve made a few calls this morning.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

Jim nodded and linked his feet behind Sebastian’s back, twisting them together at the ankles. 

“My clients are very happy indeed. It looks like you did a good job, darling.” 

“Only did what you said,” Seb muttered gruffly, although inside he was bursting with pride. 

“Perhaps one day I’ll give you a nice position in my empire. If you’re very good,” Jim offered with a smirk. 

Seb didn’t answer that. The enlistment papers were in his locker at school. He wasn’t destined for a life of business. 

“You know what?” he said, trying to change the subject. “You’re fucking chirpy for a bloke with diarrhea.” 

“And I’m sweating like a pig,” Jim added, glancing at his own underarms as though expecting to see massive wet patches. 

“I’ve noticed,” Seb agreed, reaching up to rest the flat of his palm against Jim’s forehead. It felt clammy to the touch. 

Jim momentarily closed his eyes, enjoying that sensation. It calmed him. 

“God, I’m foul,” Jim lamented. “It’s a good job you’re blind to my faults.” 

“Getting side effects off some tablets isn’t a fault,” Seb pointed out. 

Jim hummed for a while and then started to stroke Sebastian’s cheeks, relishing the chance to leisurely remind himself of the way Seb’s skin felt against his fingertips. It was rough, gorgeously so, startlingly unlike his own smooth skin. 

“In the hospital, they told me I should stay away from you,” Jim revealed quietly as he traced Seb’s lips carefully. “Can you believe it?” 

Seb shook his head but felt his stomach clench uncomfortably. He’d had the same conversation with Verity, and his anger management woman. ‘Co-dependency’ was the word that kept on cropping up. Seb refused to pay it any attention at all. He didn’t want to believe that he might be the reason for Jim’s current troubles.

“Hm,” Jim continued, kissing Seb. His breath was minty and tasted of toothpaste. He’d been brushing his teeth obsessively since he’d started to vomit. “Apparently we’re unhealthily close.” 

“Bullshit,” Seb grunted out on instinct. 

“My thoughts exactly,” agreed Jim, sounding appraising. “They couldn’t possibly understand.” 

“No.” 

“What you and I have,” Jim whispered. “Is bigger and better and stronger than anything anyone else will ever experience. And I want you to remember that.” 

“I will.” 

“You’re the only person in the whole world I wouldn’t kill,” Jim sighed. “Unless you made me.”

Seb nodded again. He knew that already.

“You won’t ever betray me, will you?” Jim asked, forehead pressed against Sebastian’s own. 

The blond swallowed. 

“No,” he lied. 

Jim chuckled for some reason. 

“Because you need to know that if you were to betray me, I couldn’t allow this to continue.” 

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Jim’s slender body protectively. 

“Wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” he mumbled. Because that wasn’t a lie. What he was planning on doing was going to help Jim. And he didn’t even know that he’d get in yet. It might never come to pass. 

“Sometimes, sweetheart,” Jim sighed, sounding deeply saddened. “Just love isn’t enough. Do you understand that?” 

“Yeah,” Seb lied again. 

Jim looked mournful and then pecked Sebastian on the lips. 

“I’ve missed you,” Jim admitted. “I don’t like us being apart. Not at all.” 

“Well, I’m here now. And you’re not going back there,” Seb consoled his boyfriend, stroking his sides. “I’ll look after you better. Promise.” 

Jim smiled, although his eyes were still so sad. 

“You know,” Jim whispered. “When naughty Jack stole the orge’s magic harp, they had to hack up the beanstalk to stop him from killing everyone to get it back. And the harp screamed and screamed and screamed.” 

Sebastian didn’t understand what Jim meant. He didn’t like it when Jim talked in that way, in riddles and fairytales and metaphors. So he kissed him softly until he stopped speaking.


	87. The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian persuades Jim to take an evening off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex, but not in explicit detail. 
> 
> (I don't usually do author's notes, but we're nearing the end now, so I wanted to alert you that angst is ahead. This is one of the last 'nice' chapters.)

After Jim’s stay at the hospital, Sebastian had been determined that Jim should take some time out. He worried about Jim’s workload, the sleepless nights, the new medication that made Jim vomit every morning. Sebastian was used to being woken up as Jim hurtled out of bed and down to the bathroom. He always dragged himself out of the warmth of his bed as well and followed, just in case Jim needed his back rubbed or something. 

Most of the time Jim just snapped at him and occasionally cried because he was afraid of germs, but Seb tried not to take it to heart. He cleared up whatever needed to be cleaned, ran Jim a bath, or led him back to the bedroom so he could lay him down and stroke his hair. 

And so, after weeks of grumbling by Sebastian, Jim had spent some of his hard-earned cash on an expensive hotel room for the evening. So they could spend some ‘quality time’ together, or so he said. 

The place was far posher than Sebastian had ever experienced, with biscuits on a tray, expensive soaps and toiletries laid out on the side, paintings on the walls, an en-suite and a massive television set. Jim had wanted to give Sebastian a taste of luxury, but Seb seemed more bemused by it than anything else. He’d been reading about the fancy dishes in the room service menu with a grimace when Jim plucked it out of his ungrateful hands and dragged him to the king-sized bed. Even if the tasteful décor didn’t please his boyfriend, Jim knew something that certainly would. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Half an hour later, Sebastian lay comfortably between Jim’s legs on the hotel bed and kissed away the salty taste from his pale stomach. Jim chuckled breathlessly as Seb kissed him and brushed his lips and tongue over his abdomen, cleaning him up. He’d always been ticklish and it made Seb grin to hear his exhausted giggles.

He looked up at Jim lazily, blue eyes wide and adoring, and rested his chin lightly against the soft skin of Jim’s stomach. His body looked gorgeously, healthily tanned against Jim’s milky skin. Jim glanced down at him and committed the sight to memory.

“God, you look hilarious naked,” Jim drawled as his chest heaved. His body still trembled with aftershocks and his limbs felt pleasantly weak. 

“Cheers,” Seb muttered, licking at Jim’s belly button, tongue dipping into the indent briefly. 

“I mean it,” Jim continued breathlessly. “You’re supposed to be all big and mean and tough and fearsome. Because that’s the way you look in your clothes. Like you’d beat a man half to death for looking at you the wrong way. But underneath it all you’re just like a lovely housecat with ugly man-feet and that massive cock dangling between your legs. You’re gentle and you have absurdly big hands and you get bashful when I talk about your cock, don’t you? Look at your face. Blushing away. Poor sweetheart. Lovely sweetheart…” 

Jim sighed himself to silence and licked his lips. Everything was pleasantly still now, after the tremors of his orgasm. Sebastian was warm between his legs, still breathing against his skin, lazy and obedient and pleased with himself, as he always was after making Jim come. He was slightly confused by that description of himself, but Jim had a tendency to ramble after sex. Seb was used to it by now and took everything he said with a pinch of salt. 

Eventually, when Jim was able to take control of his limbs again, he reached out to stroke Sebastian’s hair. It felt sweaty and messy. 

Enjoying the affection, Seb raised his head and leaned into the touch. Jim spotted a speck of white on the corner of his boyfriend’s lips and smiled to himself. 

“You’ve got a little something…” Jim informed Seb with a smirk, gesturing at his own lips. 

Seb wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then grinned. 

They shared a smile, the one they only ever exchanged when they were alone, in the peaceful moments after sex when Jim was feeling mellow and generous, and Sebastian could be openly adoring. Jim’s smile to Sebastian was warm and genuine and showed no teeth at all. Seb’s to Jim was slightly wonky at one side and his blue eyes went soft and heavily lidded. 

“Come here,” Jim commanded with a lazy gesture of his hand, and Seb obediently crawled up his body, ending up in Jim’s arms.

Jim kissed him deeply, tasting the odd but now familiar saltiness on his tongue. Sebastian’s back felt sweaty and warm and deliciously solid against Jim’s soft palms. 

“You’re very good at that,” Jim praised him lightly, nipping at Sebastian’s lower lip. “I’m lasting longer.”

“It’s a gift,” Seb said, smirking proudly. “What can I say?” 

Jim grinned and pecked at Sebastian’s lips. 

“Hm, it’s a natural talent,” Jim agreed. “And it’s a good job too. Because I don’t suit laying between a man’s legs.” 

Sebastian scoffed affectionately, looking down at Jim with great indulgence. 

“Didn’t realise you were so passionately opposed to giving oral,” he teased. 

Jim pouted. 

“Now, now. I’ve had a go with you, haven’t I?” 

“Done more than had a go,” Seb agreed fairly. He knew Jim was only complaining for the fun of it. It was something he seemed to enjoy when he was in his better moods. 

“Exactly,” Jim nodded, pecking at Seb’s chin, lightly biting it. “I just prefer to be on the receiving end.” 

“Good job I don’t mind giving then really, isn’t it?” 

“Very,” Jim chuckled, licking into Sebastian’s open mouth. “And it wouldn’t be a reward if I did it for you all the time, now, would it?” 

They kissed for a while, all tongues and the occasional scrape of Jim’s teeth, until Seb settled on the bed next to Jim and lay on his side, watching him. Jim never minded when he did that. In fact, he basked in the attention. 

“Still got your tooth marks on my left arse cheek, look,” Seb said conversationally, twisting his body to get a glimpse of them. Jim glanced down at Sebastian’s bottom and ran his fingers approvingly over the crescent shaped marks of ownership. They’d all bled at the time, and Seb had cried out and begged for more. Jim had laughed against Sebastian’s skin as it broke and he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. Sebastian did enjoy his pain, Jim mused. It was positively adorable. 

“From the other day? They’ve kept well,” Jim commented. “You do suit them, though.”

“And I’ve got the scratches down my back,” Seb said. “Plus you can still see the love bite on my neck if you squint.”

“Hm, you’re my canvas,” Jim said agreeably. “And a glutton for punishment. I’m a lucky boy.” 

Looking almost comically proud of himself, Seb settled again. He wasn’t content to be away from Jim for long, though, and soon moved close as he could. With Jim’s hum of permission, he lay on top of Jim, careful not to crush him with his weight. He bent his head and started to idly lick at one of Jim’s nipples as Jim stroked his hair.

“Did I tell you that the Holmes boy’s been sent up to Yorkshire for a while?” Jim asked tiredly. 

“Nope,” Seb mumbled, worrying the bud lightly between his teeth, in just the way he knew Jim liked it. 

“Hm, they think the fresh air might do him good. Poor little thing. They made him go without his brother.”

Seb released Jim’s nipple and looked up at him slightly sulkily. 

“Do we have to talk about him right now?”

“Someone’s jealous,” Jim sang, tracing the shell of Sebastian’s ear with his fingertip. 

“Someone,” Seb said grumpily. “Is trying to get you off again. And would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about the Holmes shit for five seconds.” 

Jim chuckled. He loved seeing this side of Sebastian. So possessive and afraid of being replaced. Not that Jim would ever let anyone take Sebastian’s spot in his heart. He already knew that no other person could ever make him feel the way Sebastian did. Seb was his to love or hate or hurt or mend. That wouldn’t ever change, no matter who might catch his interest. 

“Good luck with that. It might take a while after that spectacular blow job, although I’d recommend you go a little lower if that’s what you’re after.” 

Seb sat up, offended. 

“If you wanted me to leave it, you could’ve just said.” 

The righteous indignation on Sebastian’s features made Jim want to laugh. He looked positively betrayed.

“Come here, sweetheart, don’t sulk,” Jim sighed, beckoning his boyfriend to him with his pale fingers. Seb flopped down next to him and Jim cradled him in his arms, quite a feat considering how much bigger than him Sebastian was. He felt Seb’s breath against his torso.

“Now, do you think I should focus my attention on the cocaine smuggling from Budapest, or deal with the insurance fix down in Devonshire?” 

“Think you should forget about work when we’re fucking,” Seb grumbled. 

“Poor baby,” Jim mocked him affectionately. “You’re still my favourite.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Of course.” 

“Doesn’t feel like it sometimes.” 

Jim sat up suddenly and straddled Seb, pushing him down against the expensive hotel mattress. He settled on Sebastian’s hips, quite comfortably, and rested his hands on Seb’s shoulders, feeling for the muscles beneath the skin. 

“Am I going to have to prove how much I love you again? Hm?” he asked, tilting his head. 

Seb stared up at him in the way he always did. His expression was precious, Jim thought, so tinged with arousal and anticipation, but most potent of all, pure adoration and reverence and respect. It made Jim feel like royalty. Like a god made flesh. 

Sebastian never looked at him and saw his not-quite-flat stomach, or the self harm scars on his inner arms and upper thighs, or the occasional blemishes, or the jutting bones or lack of muscles. Sebastian quite clearly gazed at him and saw perfection. It was written on every feature of his painfully handsome face. 

“Look at you,” Jim crooned. “All mine.” 

“Yours,” Seb agreed instantly. 

“I can touch you anywhere and everywhere.” To prove his point, Jim sat back and slipped his hand between Sebastian’s legs. He trailed his fingers over the hair that accumulated at his groin and then gave Seb’s cock a playful flick. It twitched in response.

“Do you like it better when we do it with lots of kissing and it’s slow and I only bite and scratch you a liiiiiiitle bit, or do you like it best when I’m screaming and you’re growling and we both almost pass out after?” Jim asked curiously.

Sebastian thought about that. They’d done their fair share of both types. 

“Depends what mood I’m in,” he answered as Jim traced his own initials, the ones carved into Sebastian’s hip. Jim touched them whenever he could. He liked to remind himself that he owned Sebastian, that his boyfriend had consented to be maimed as proof. 

“And what mood are you in now?” Jim asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Seb grinned. Well, that was the answer he’d been hoping for.

“Recovered then?” Seb asked. 

“Completely. Round two?” 

“Might as well, seeing as we’ve splashed out on the hotel room.” 

Jim smirked and settled himself back on Sebastian’s hips. He ignored the ‘we’ve’. He supposed it was rather nice that Sebastian thought of them as a unit. 

“Option one: lovely and sweet and I promise to be nice. Or option two: fast and rough and I promise to be nasty?” 

“Two,” Seb answered easily, grinning crookedly and reaching for Jim’s body. 

“Thought so,” Jim sang, dragging Seb up to him by his hair and kissing him hard.


	88. Toy Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian makes the biggest decision of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Just another warning that we are nearing the end. Which makes me sad.))

Time sped by. Hours bled into days. Days bled into months.

Jim’s new tablets had finally taken hold. Although they made him sick in the mornings, he was now more able to regulate his emotions. Sebastian noticed that they often left him worryingly cold and uncaring, but he supposed that was better than Jim crying all the time and screaming and hurting himself.

Sebastian went through a frantic period of revision in which he barely spoke, could be found frowning at his lesson notes, or poring over history textbooks, and went on obsessive clear-ups, where he filed every spare piece of paper he spotted, grumbled about Jim’s beauty products, and kept cleaning the bedroom and office. Jim became used to the post-it notes on the walls and on the desk and needing to allow Sebastian his space. Sebastian had also taken to running around the neighbourhood first thing in the morning, as soon as he got home from Sixth Form and once before dinner. Jim supposed the exercise calmed him down.

Occasionally Jim helped out by quizzing Seb on his key history dates. He had a brilliant memory for that sort of thing, and a very intelligent outlook on politics. But still he grimaced and seemed ashamed of himself whenever he couldn’t recall a certain name or date. Sebastian always seemed to think he could do better than he currently was. Even when he was achieving perfection.

Jim’s own application to university was sorted. It was Cambridge or Oxford for him, seeing as, in a rare move, both universities had offered him a scholarship place. They were clearly fighting over him, wanting the brightest and most promising students to study with them. Jim often chuckled to himself as he thought about it. Cambridge was far more to his liking, but Oxford was Sebastian’s current first choice, and he wouldn’t mind going there if it meant living in a flat with Sebastian and embarking on their first independent year together. It could be fun, Jim thought, not to mention perfect for business.

Dawn rang the home on the evening before Sebastian’s first A-level exam. Jim chatted to her for a bit, because Sebastian wasn’t feeling talkative. Apparently being pregnant was making her sick, but Raj’s sister had suggested various herbal remedies which were working quite well. They complained about morning sickness together, and Jim sent his regards to Raj. 

It was odd, talking to Dawn. It sounded like she was in the next room, not in another continent. Jim hadn’t missed her the way Sebastian had, but life still felt oddly lonely without her presence. 

Jim realised, after he’d said goodbye and put the phone down, that Dawn was a person he liked. That was odd, he mused. Because there was nothing special about her at all.

On the morning of Sebastian’s first exam, Seb ate a piece of toast without looking at it. He swigged his orange juice and kept grunting dates and old German policies under his breath. Jim sat by his side and patted him comfortingly on the arm. There was no use trying to break Sebastian out of this state. He was a very all or nothing sort of man, who either gave his heart and soul to a cause, or remained entirely apathetic. 

Jim’s day was spent silently fretting that Sebastian might allow his nerves to impact his academic performance. It was important that he hit his grades if Seb was going to be allowed to attend Oxford. They wanted three A’s for the History and English Literature course, and there were plenty of applicants. Jim thought Sebastian ought to achieve four A’s, just to be safe. 

When Sebastian returned from his exam, Jim met him at the front door. He raised an expectant eyebrow and Seb gave him a tired grin and a thumbs-up. Jim gave him a blow job as a reward that night and sat on Sebastian’s lap, testing him on his Shakespeare for most of the evening. 

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A long time later than Jim had received his scholarship offers, when Sebastian’s results (four A’s) had been announced, an offer came for Sebastian, from Oxford university. Jim had whooped and hugged Sebastian, thrilled with his achievement. Even Verity had congratulated him. There’d been a celebratory dinner of sausage and mash and the little girls drew Sebastian pictures.

Sebastian didn’t smile properly, though. His expression that evening was fixed, jaw set. He looked nauseous as Jim began to chatter about student housing and décor and food and good places to find comfortable king-sized beds. In bed that night, as Jim stroked his chest and spoke about the horrendous rate of rent down in Oxford, Sebastian closed his eyes and tried to think of other things. 

And for once, in his pure joy at the idea of three years studying with Sebastian, independent and free, Jim didn’t notice the guilt behind his boyfriend’s blue eyes or his almost constant grimace of pain. 

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Jim found Sebastian’s enlistment papers in August. He’d been searching for his own notes on the Bolivian smuggling ring he was trying to keep track of, and instead had unearthed a very nasty surprise. 

He waited at the office for Sebastian, just like any other normal day, and sat on the leather sofa. 

When Sebastian arrived he knew instantly that something was wrong. The atmosphere was thick with trouble. And then he spotted Jim’s expression and the papers clutched daintily in his pale hand. 

“I can explain,” he muttered, closing the door behind him. “I never meant for you to… I was gonna tell you. Was gonna do it this weekend. I swear.” 

Jim swallowed and looked straight through Sebastian. It was easier than looking directly at him. 

“And here I was planning our flat for October,” Jim drawled. His tone was off. Bland. 

Sebastian took a deep, steadying breath. 

“It’s not to hurt you,” he attempted to explain. “I just… you know me, Jim. I wanted to keep my options open. It’s a massive step. I don’t know if uni’s going to work.” 

“Of course,” Jim agreed coldly. “You wanted to keep your options open. How silly of me. Now it all makes sense.” 

He looked up at Sebastian. 

“So I suppose I can throw these papers away now? I’m assuming the army was just your little option on the side? Just in case? A back-up plan? Wise of you to think of it.” 

Sebastian knew he was fighting a losing battle from the moment Jim’s eyes met his own. 

“I can’t go to Oxford,” he forced himself to say. His tone was low, rough. “I can’t do it.”

“Your results say otherwise,” Jim countered.

“It’s not that. I know I’ve got the brain for it, but…” 

“But you’d rather throw your life away to become cannon fodder?”

Sebastian did his best to stand tall and proud. He wasn’t sure it worked. Under Jim’s disappointed scrutiny, he felt like a child about to be scolded. 

“I’d be protecting my country,” he said firmly. 

Jim’s lips curled up at one side. His expression was a twisted mockery of amusement. 

“I see.” 

“Do you?” 

“Protecting your country,” Jim repeated with a chuckle. “Yes. It’s Sebastian’s last chance to be a hero. Even after all the terrible things he’s done. He still secretly wants to be ‘good’. Sweet. Bless his heart. Maybe he’ll get to heaven now? Who knows? Can you wash that much blood off?”  


Sebastian’s stomach lurched. Jim was using his sing-song voice. He’d done it to belittle him, and it had worked. 

“Jim-“ 

“You’re weaker than I thought,” Jim declared. 

Seb ran his hands through his blond hair and scratched at his scalp. He wanted to cover his face with his palms. He wanted to be anywhere but where he was. 

“I’d be a laughing stock at uni,” he explained, his tone desperate. “Blokes like me, we don’t fit in there. Years of studying and for what? I can’t sit behind a desk all my life. That’s not me. It’s you.” 

“You told me you’d consider Oxford,” Jim said evenly. 

“And I did. But I decided I didn’t want it. You always knew I wanted to enlist. I was straight with you. You knew months back.” 

Jim rolled his eyes and then fixed them once again on Sebastian. There was a cold sort of hatred there today. Like Jim was seeing him for the first time and he didn’t much like the true picture of his boyfriend. 

“I also assumed the idea of us attending university together might have changed your mind. But apparently I was wrong. You don’t love me as much as you say you do,” Jim said.

“People will take the piss if I go to uni. I won’t be able to hack it.”

“I would have looked after you!” Jim suddenly hissed, throwing out his arms on either side of him. He’d snapped, quite suddenly, all his rage bursting to the surface in a wild form of mania. 

“Jim-“ Sebastian mumbled, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. 

But Jim got up from the sofa, still clutching the papers, and advanced on Sebastian, eyes large and furious. 

“Who’s going to look after you when you’re getting shot at in the desert? Hm?!” 

“We’ll be a team. Loads of us. We’d have each other’s backs.” 

Jim laughed, the sound low and uncomfortable.

“What have I told you about ordinary people?” he asked, adopting his teaching voice quite suddenly. 

“Fuck’s sake, Jim-“ 

“They’re idiots!” he screeched. “The whole lot of them!” 

“I’m an idiot!” Seb yelled back, jabbing at his own chest. “I’m not you! I’m not a fucking brain in a jar! I have to live my own goddamn life, or I swear to God…” he trailed off, a muscle in his jaw straining with tension. 

Jim narrowed his eyes dangerously. 

“If you dare-“ he began, but Seb cut him off. 

“If I dare, you’ll do what? Go on? How far are you willing to go to stop me doing what I’ve always wanted?” 

Jim felt as though he’d been kicked. Sebastian had never hurt him, but this was far worse than any physical assault could have been. Jim imagined himself having his skin ripped off, layer by layer, Sebastian's massive hands shredding the layers until he was naked and alone and just a little boy with a brain that was too big and killing him slowly.

“’Cause that’s all this is, right?” Seb continued, voice still loud and angry. He was confrontational, almost intimidating. “You don’t want me to be happy without you!” 

“Shut your filthy, pathetic mouth!” Jim screamed back. 

“You ever heard of ‘codependency’?” Sebastian demanded, kicking at the desk and sending a pencil pot flying, the contents scattering all over the office floor. “’Cause that’s us! It’s fucking well us, Jim! You know what this is? It’s a fucking shipwreck.” 

Jim’s heart was pounding against his ribcage. He could hear it in his ears. His body was going numb with shock. He wanted to hit Sebastian. He wanted to strike him so hard he shut up. He wanted to kill him.

“I was under the impression you were happy,” Jim said coolly, eyes hard and businesslike. He couldn’t deal with this as himself. So Moriarty was needed. Good old Moriarty, the work persona. He didn’t fret about his boyfriend staging a mutiny, oh no. Moriarty remained cool and unconcerned and deliciously ruthless.

“I am!” Sebastian exclaimed, jabbing at his chest again. “But this isn’t healthy. It isn’t right. You can’t just keep me. It’s not how life works. I can’t always be there for you!” 

Jim took a long breath. The panic was gone. In its place was a dull disappointment. A calm form of cruelty. 

“And you thought you’d wait until now to spring this on me?” Jim asked in a quiet voice. 

“Do you know how tough it’s been?” Seb panted out. “This is intense. You and me, we’re like a fucking active volcano. And you wanted me to go to Oxford. Fucking Oxford! I’m not made for fucking Oxford! It’s full of posh bastards and that’s not me! I’d bloody kill them or something!” 

“No, of course not,” Jim agreed pleasantly, stroking his own chin. “You’re not made for Oxford. You’re a toy soldier.” 

“The army’s perfect for people like me, don’t you get it? Wanted to join since I was a kid. It’s the only place I’ve ever imagined being.” 

“War isn’t a game, Sebastian, and you’re not a little boy,” Jim drawled after a short pause.

Sebastian had only just noticed that he was no longer talking to his boyfriend. He was addressing Jim’s business persona. 

“Fuck you,” he spat, sticking his middle finger up at Jim and then punching the wall as hard as he could. He felt one of his fingers break with a sickening crack. 

“Your mother said it,” Jim said calmly, a few moments after Sebastian’s finger had broken. 

“You what?” 

“She said your late father changed when he came back.” 

“So you think I’m like him?” Seb fumed, cracking his knuckles. He grimaced as the broken finger started to throb. 

“It’s a possibility.” 

“Fuck off!” 

Sebastian cracked his finger back into place with one sudden movement and grunted out a string of swear words under his breath. 

Jim watched him do so with detachment. 

“It could be that you’re genetically predisposed to-“ 

“Like you and your dad, you mean?” Seb spat, his features contorted into uncharacteristic malice. “Like how you’re fucking genetically predisposed to hacking yourself up?” 

Jim paled but then shrugged, attempting to hide his consternation. No matter how hard he tried to stay as Moriarty, Jim was slipping back through. He was hurt, wounded. 

“If you’re referencing the fact I’m insane, then yes. Spot on, Sebastian. Clever you for drawing that little parallel. What a big man you are,” Jim shot back, still talking quietly. His eyes were welling up, though, large and brown and wavering. 

Seb wanted to sink into the earth with shame. He felt like a kid. His face flushed with colour and he looked down at his trainers.

When he found it in himself to look up again, Jim’s expression was stony. There wasn’t a single sign of tears. Sebastian wondered if he’d imagined it in the first place. 

“Your temperament isn’t right for the army,” Jim pointed out. 

“I can deal with it,” Seb insisted. 

“You’ll snap. One day, someone will insult you, and you’ll see red.” 

Sebastian shook his head. 

“I’m not a fucking child. I can control myself.” 

“It’ll take you less than a year,” Jim said with certainty. 

“Jim-“ 

“All that adrenaline. All those egotistical bastards. Some are bound to take a dislike to you, being so handsome and capable, and that’s without them knowing that you’re not a fan of the fairer sex.” 

It was too painful for Sebastian to admit that Jim might have a point. 

“Shut it,” he grunted. 

“It’s the truth. Somebody has to tell you.” 

“I’ve always been going to do it.” 

“Don’t kid yourself they’ll accept you there. You think dressing a boy in camouflage and handing him a gun makes him noble? You think it can wash away all that guilt? Hm? Think it can make you worthy? Think you can impress your dead father? You’re deluded.” 

Seb looked on the brink of hitting him. So Jim paused. For a second he’d been sure Seb was about to punch him in the face, and it had scared him. 

But no punch came. Sebastian just snarled at him. So he continued. 

“You think the world owes you a bit of happiness, but it doesn’t. The world doesn’t care. Scientifically speaking, the universe is completely without bias. It won’t let you prove yourself, darling. If a bullet has your name on, you’ll be dead in the dust.” 

Sebastian, who needed to rid himself of his rage, ran his hands through his hair again, messing it up and grunting with frustration. 

“You can’t stop me,” he told Jim, sounding like a sulky child. 

“No,” Jim said very quietly. “But I can make you regret it.” 

Seb sniffed and scratched at the back of his neck.

“You threatening me now?” 

Jim blinked slowly and handed the enlistment papers back to Sebastian. The action was so unexpected that Seb gawped at him. He’d expected him to tear them to shreds and let them pile up on the office floor. 

“If you go off to war, Sebastian,” Jim whispered. “I won’t forgive you. We won’t be the same. You’ll have thrown it all away for a slice of glory.” 

“You love me,” Seb pointed out. “If you love someone, you can’t just make that go away.” 

He was thinking of old Edna from the hospital. How her husband had gone off to war when they were sweethearts. He remembered that she’d been angry at first, furious, but in the end they were happy. Still together in their seventies. Ready to face death after a life lived together. It was the sort of relationship Sebastian longed for.

“Are you willing to test that theory?” Jim asked coldly. 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Wouldn’t what?” 

“Cut me out just because I want to enlist. You love me. We need each other.” 

Jim licked his lips, again with unnerving, almost reptilian slowness. 

“If you march off to join the army, Sebastian, I promise you, you’ll regret it for the rest of your sorry life.” 

“Nah, don’t believe it,” Seb said, shaking his head. 

Jim reached up to stroke Sebastian’s cheek. His hand was cool against Sebastian’s warm, rough skin. 

“Don’t spoil it all,” he whispered. “This is your last chance. You ruined me. You made me feel safe with you. You got me to trust you. You did this. All of it. Sweetheart, all of it, it’s your fault. It’s you. I’m insane because you helped me along.”

“No,” Seb breathed out, shaking his head with pure horror. He was rooted to the spot. Stuck in a nightmare. Because it was what he’d always feared. Deep down inside he’d always wondered. Was it his fault? Had he done something wrong? And now Jim had admitted that it was the truth.

Jim nodded at him seriously. The stunned dread in Sebastian’s eyes drove him to continue. 

“You made me into this,” he said, gesturing at himself. “You made me into Moriarty. I was never him before you. You helped me. It’s half your work. Half your sweat and blood and tears. You did it. You, sweetheart. Little Sebastian. Lovely shy Sebastian who wanted a baby brother. You made a monster. It’s all on you, now.” 

“I never…” Seb panted. “You make it sound like… I… Jim, I love you…” 

“And who knows what Moriarty might get up to without his heart?” Jim whispered with a dead-eyed smirk. “Who knows what he might do? Who he might hurt? It was always the both of us, darling. Because without my conscience, I could be soooooo naughty…” 

Sebastian took a step back, horrified. Not by Jim’s words. By the expression on his face. It wasn’t one he recognised. It wasn’t his Jim. It was Him. Moriarty. The Jim that wore a suit and didn’t understand the meaning of mercy. Seb didn’t want that person touching his face. 

“You don’t control me,” Seb insisted. “I love you, but I have to make my own decisions. Otherwise I’m just your fucking pet.” 

“What will Sebastian do, I wonder?” Jim sang to himself. “Will he betray the person he loves and leave him all alone and very cross. Or will he do the ‘noble’ thing? Hm…” 

“I love you,” Seb insisted, trying to ignore Jim’s words. He leaned in to kiss his boyfriend, but Jim drew back swiftly. 

“Such a disappointment after all,” Jim said dismissively, shaking his head. “Who’d have thought it? All those years I wasted on you. And for nothing.” 

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Jim had to say those things, because Sebastian, faithful puppy that he was, needed to feel he had to win back Jim’s affection. It was the way his brain worked. His life was a constant quest for validation and praise and acceptance. 

Of course Sebastian would occasionally feel the need to rebel. That was only natural. And it was imperative that Jim nipped those little flashes of defiance in the bud and kept Sebastian loyal. 

But for the very first time in his life, Jim’s plan backfired. 

Because Sebastian decided to do the noble thing.

He decided to break the cycle of codependency. He decided to fight for his country and give Jim the chance to develop on his own. He decided to free Jim from his own worthlessness, to stop holding him back.

When Jim woke up in the morning, ready to cross the room, climb into Seb’s bed and nestle against Sebastian’s chest, ready to kiss him and apologise with soft gestures rather then words, the bed was empty. 

Sebastian was gone. His bags were gone. His clothes were gone. The photograph Dawn had taken of them together had disappeared from the box under his bed.

The enlistment papers were nowhere to be found.

Jim curled up in a ball on Sebastian’s bed and screamed.


	89. Sebastian's Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian writes to Jim during his military training.

Dear Jim,

I’m sorry I didn’t give you more warning, but I thought it would be best this way. Goodbyes are painful, and I know you didn’t want me to go. 

I’m doing basic training at the moment. Our contact with the outside world is minimal. Doesn’t make much sense, but I suppose I’ve got to get used to it. That’s why I haven’t called. Should be five weeks before I can call you again. Tried yesterday, but apparently you weren’t in.

I’ve met some of the lads. They seem alright. Decent blokes. There’s another guy here that’s obviously gay. So that’s good, I guess. Means I’d have an ally if the boys did decide to turn, only I don’t reckon they will. It’s sort of like a brotherhood here. It’s difficult to explain, but it does something to you, this place. It wipes away your background. We’re all equal, on even footing.

The top dogs are pretty excited about me. Turns out my father was a better soldier than I’d realised. They think I might have the same potential. Just wait until they find out about my aim, eh? Then I’ll be sorted.

They’ve cut my hair fairly short. You always said it was too long. Think you might have been right. Got it in the military style (obviously), same as all the other lads. I still stick out like a sore thumb, though. I’m one of the tallest, plus I’m the only blond. Shaved off all my stubble, too. I reckon I look younger. You wouldn’t like it. I know you’re into the rough and rugged thing. 

Mostly they’ve taught us odd things, just to get us started. There are a lot of generals screaming at us. It’s not personal, though. I can deal with it. They want to make us better, and that’s what I’m going to be. 

They’ve shown us how to iron our uniforms, how to present ourselves, how to address our superiors, even how to walk into rooms. It’s pretty strict. If you don’t march right and show respect they yell at you and send you back into the corridor. Didn’t happen to me, but Rogers got into trouble. They put him on hygiene duty. 

I know I’ve always wound you up with my OCD tendencies, but it’s perfect for me here. The routine inspections are no bother at all. I’m used to order. I like it. While the others are grumbling about having to fold their towels, I’ve got myself five spare minutes for reading or researching.

I’m up at five in the morning every day, and in bed by about eleven. I can’t wait to get stuck in, but apparently we don’t get exposed to weaponry until later on. Right now they’re trying to break our spirit, but it doesn’t work on me. 

Smithfield started crying yesterday. The Corporal kept telling him he was a pussy that was going to end up dead on the field. But I think once you get it into your head that they’re going to make us into better soldiers, that they want to help us in the long run, it’s easier to deal with. They all know their craft, all served already. You’ve got to respect them, haven’t you? They’ve been through all this and come out the other side. Probably saved tons of lives. Risked their own necks defending the country. 

Talking of defending the country, we’ve done our vows already. I’m Rifleman Moran. It’s the lowest rank, but I’m working my way up. You’ve got to start somewhere. Platoon Commander Grossmark started as one of us, and look at him now. 

We had to swear allegiance to the queen and her heirs. It’s a load of bullshit, that part, but nobody really means it. We’re in it for ourselves. We’re all here to become men.

I know you think the military is a waste of my talents, but I swear, I’ll come back to you. I’ll come back better. I’ll be different by the end. I’ll know how to do things properly. Maybe you can find a use for me then.

I won’t ever let you down when this is done. I’ll be a man. I’ll have proved myself worthy of you. And I swear, Jim, I’m going to make you proud.

I never did it to hurt you. I just think we need to be individuals. It’s not healthy to be shut up together all the time. It gets heated and we fight and in the end, we won’t last. It’s too stressful. I stress you out, and that’s the last thing you need.

I’d been having nightmares. Still get them, actually. About us yelling at each other and me just snapping. Then you hurting yourself. I can’t do that to you. I can’t have that on my conscience. 

I reckon you were right about what you said. I’m part of the reason you’ve not been well. So I’m going to fix it. When I get back, I’ll be different. I’ll be good enough for you, then. I swear. 

I love you more than anything. Always will. 

Write again as soon as I can. Hope you’re okay. Should be able to contact you again in five weeks or so.

Seb x

 

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Dear Jim, 

Did you get my last letter? Just wanted to check. I didn’t get any response.

Basic’s still going well. It’s been mental here, Jim. It’s full-on. The fitness training’s brilliant, but they push you right to your limits. We do swimming and work at the gym, as well as working on reflexes and aggression. 

That’s something I find tough. Controlled aggression. I’ve got to be able to switch it on and off, and I find it harder than most to come out of the mind-set. Thing is, they rile you up, as though you’re about to kill the enemy. Then suddenly it’s all done and you’ve got no blood to show for it and you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

Good news, though. I’ve impressed them in weaponry training. They said I was a natural. And that’s really fucking rare, because most of the time they treat you like shit to try to encourage you to work harder. 

There’s been some talk of having me trained up for the guns and transferred. Apparently that’s unusual. That means I’ll be moved to Sandhurst. Nothing’s fixed yet, but I’ll be gutted if they don’t let me. The sniper division are the elite. I want to be one of them.

There are some issues on the mental health front. You’ve got to be sound of mind to join the sniper division, but they’re considering making an exception for me. They didn’t want me to hear them in case my ego got too big, but they were raving about my aim. Blew the other lads out of the water. Hit my targets every time. 

There are three main branches of the sniper training program. You’ve got marksmanship, observation, and stalking. I’ve been reading up on it. 

I’ve aced the first one already. Marksmanship shouldn’t take much effort on my part. Should be a doddle. Observation’ll be interesting. My reflexes and reactions are pretty good, but I’m told it’s harder than you expect. They only accept the best. Not sure about stalking, either, but I think my work with you’ll probably give me a bit of an edge on the others.

They say the program is repetitive, that it requires hard work and skill and dedication. It’s a hard old slog, but I think I can cut it. Always felt right with a gun in my hand. I think this might be where I’ve always been supposed to get to. It feels right. Not sure how else to explain it. 

Love you, as always. Thinking about you all the time. 

Please write back. Just so I know you’re okay. You don’t have to chat or anything. A word will do. 

Seb x 

 

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Dear Jim, 

They’re taking me on. I’m going to be a sniper.

Apparently there was some opposition to me getting the place because of my mental health records, but my aim’s overridden it. 

There’s a written test coming up, but I’ve always been good with that kind of thing. They’re dead impressed with my A-levels. Looks like all the hard work paid off. Most of the blokes here never got their qualifications, so I’m leading the pack right now. 

Although most of the blokes at Sandhurst are well-educated, so I’ll have some stiff competition once I’ve been moved.

Been learning all about guns too. It’s more interesting than you’d think. I can’t say too much, for obvious reasons, but some of this equipment is brilliant. You’d definitely get some use out of it.

I’ve got some friends here now. Brendon and Raoul. They’ve got my back, so you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll have to start over when they switch me, but I just wanted you to know that the lads are looking out for me. 

I’m going to try and ring soon. Hope you’ll be around when I do. 

Miss you loads. Love you always. 

Seb x

 

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Dear Jim, 

I’m writing from Sandhurst, Berkshire. 

I take back what I said about it being a doddle. This stuff is brutal. They’re working us harder than I’ve ever worked before. They want us to be combat-ready at all times, which means they spring drills on us, and we never get a decent night’s kip. We’ve got to stay on our toes. 

Now we’re doing communication and surveillance performance. Plus, there’s a lot of maths. You’d like that part, although I find it pretty tough. Could do with you helping me out. You’d be able to do it in a heartbeat. We’ve got wind speed to contend with, distances, all that sort of thing. They say it’s like a science, and I guess they’re right. It’s more precise than just aiming your gun and pulling the trigger. It’s an art form. 

I’m still the best aim by miles. 

The new blokes are a bit different. Bit snooty, some of them, but nothing I can’t handle. This lot are from military families, or they’ve served before in the TA. 

The commanding officers are keeping a close eye on me, because of my father. A couple of them knew him. Haven’t asked for any details. Think it’s best I don’t know. I don’t want them asking me questions. 

They get this look in their eyes when they hear the name ‘Moran.’ Means I’ve got a lot to live up to if I want to impress them. Corporal Benson always watches when we’re shooting targets. He’s trying to mentor me, I think. It’s difficult to tell with him. They all say he’s the one that spots the talent, so with any luck he’ll advance me when the time comes. 

Haven’t lost my temper yet. You get enough exercise to hold that back, and I’m too busy to stew in it. It’s full-on, though, Jim. They’re even stricter at Sandhurt, because they’re all about excellence. No room for mistakes.

Sometimes I wake up and feel like a kid, because of all the rules and getting yelled at. But then they start talking about deaths and casualties and show us these photographs of wounded soldiers, and it sort of smacks you in the face. That it’s real. We’re actually going to get deployed one day. That’s going to be us. 

There was a room of about twenty of us, and they said at least one of us was statistically likely to die, three maimed. Doesn’t matter to me, though. It won’t be me that gets hurt. It’s all about team spirit, yeah, but I’m not in it for them. I’m in it for me. If I had to, I’d leave them bleeding on the field. I’m not getting shot because some idiot isn’t disciplined or didn’t put the effort in during training. 

I’ve got a picture of Bowie in my new room. There are four of us sleeping there. My bunk’s nearest the window, which is good. Plain bed sheets. You’d hate it. It’s as basic as you can imagine. Got the photograph of us up next to my bed too. The lads think you’re my adoptive brother. That’s the story I’ve given them, anyway. That I’ve got a big sister in India, and a little brother at university. 

I know you’ll be at Cambridge by now, but I’m sending this to the home. Just so they can get the address for you right. You’ve never told me where you’re staying.

Guess you might be staying at the home and commuting. It’s only about an hour and a half away, isn’t it? 

Love you. Hope to talk to you soon. 

Seb x

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

 

Dear Jim, 

I rang a while back but you weren’t in. 

Well, Cassie said you weren’t in. I know you were. I could hear you standing by the phone. And that poor kid was terrified of giving the game away. I hope you didn’t threaten her. Cass is a good kid. 

How come you’re still at the home? Did they not have enough student housing? 

Just want you to know that I still love you. I always will. No matter where I am or what I do. 

I might be part of the military now, but I’m still yours. I’ve still got my marks. I still dream of you at night. 

Can’t imagine a life without you.

You’ll think I’m mental, but sometimes when we’re in training it’s like I can hear your voice in my head. Guess you’re my inner-motivation. Telling me to move my arse and show them what I can do. It’s surprisingly lifelike. 

Think I might be able to come home for a weekend soon. If you want. 

I don’t have to, and I know I’m an adult now, so the home doesn’t have to house me. But I’d pay for a hotel room or something. 

Really want to see you. Please say yes. Might be my last chance for a while.

Love you. 

Seb x

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

 

Sebastian, 

My answer is no. 

JM.

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

 

Dear Jim, 

They’re fast-tracking me through the ranks. The others are a bit miffed that I’ve jumped ahead, but the top dogs all know my name by now. They want me ready for the field. 

Think I might get deployed before the others. Got a chance of heading out to Bosnia. It’s that or Northern Ireland.

Probably end up in Bosnia. They’ve got more trouble going on there. Might need a good shot.

You should get a look at these rifles, Jim. The precision is amazing. It’s genuinely good kit. I thought the country was broke, but apparently we’ve got the cash for this lot. Still, I’m not complaining. Can’t wait to get my hands on some of this weaponry. 

Done some map reading recently. The geography’s served me pretty well on that front. Some of the other lads aren’t so up to speed, but I suppose I’ve got it in my blood.

There’s more to sniping than you’d think. We do breathing techniques to minimise barrel motion. Tiny things like that can make all the difference between a direct hit and a miss. 

Getting paired up soon. Snipers and spotters. Can’t tell you much about the mechanics of it all, but I’m taking the first go as a sniper. The watching isn’t the fun part. What you want is to be the bloke with his finger on the trigger.

I’m enjoying it, but I miss you. Hope you miss me too. Hope you still love me.

Love you so much it hurts.

Seb x

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

 

Dear Jim, 

I wish you’d talk to me. Or see me. Even pick up the phone.

I know I’m a bastard, but I still love you. And I’m making something of myself here. 

Can’t believe how long it’s been. Six months. Sixth months without hearing your voice. 

Passed my psychological tests. They’ve had us camping by ourselves and trying to survive on rations. It’s not as bad as it sounds. If I set my mind on a target, I can manage it. I don’t fail. Haven’t failed once since I came here.

Fingers crossed for me. I’ve got my final tests coming up. They’re exposing us to tear gas to see how we cope with it. Apparently it makes you really sick, but it’s all part of training, so I’m not going to chicken out now. This is it. Suppose it’s time for me to man up and deal with it. 

It’s just pain. Nothing I can’t handle. 

Love you. Hope you’re still reading my letters. And I hope you’re doing alright at Cambridge. I bet you’re the smartest there by miles. 

Been dreaming about you a lot. Just holding you. Your eyes.

Seb x

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

 

Dear Jim, 

Listen, I’m passing out soon, (it’s military speak for graduating, I’m not about to keel over) so I’ll be ready for deployment. There’s a ceremony. Bit stupid really, with the military band and everything. But it’s a big deal, and usually people invite their family. 

You reckon you could make it?

I’m asking Dawn and Raj to come down for it. Dawn’s been writing to me, and I’ve spoken to her a few times. Baby Aaron sounds like a right laugh. They think he’s smart, but I guess you can’t tell with a kid that age. Hope they’ll bring him along. I’d love to see him properly. 

I’ll send the details along with this. 

Honestly, Jim, it’d mean the world to me if you turned up. Even if it just meant I could see you before I go. 

They want me to go to Bosnia as soon as possible, and they’ll keep up my training over there. I won’t be back for ages. It’s dangerous stuff, a proper war-zone, but just think of the experience. 

I love you. Really love you. More than anything. 

I’m sorry I’ve been a shit boyfriend. I’m sorry I’ve let you down. But I swear I’ll make you proud.

Please think about it. Even if you just want to come over and slap me in the face. I’ll take that. I know I deserve it.

Just need to see you. Can’t explain how much I love you. 

Thinking of you every day. 

Seb x 

 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

 

Dear Jim, 

It’s in a week. Just reminding you. In case you wanted to come. 

I know you’re angry with me. I deserve every bad thing I get. But I need to see you. You’re the one thing I think about when life gets tough. All I want sometimes is to just hold your hand, as pathetic as that sounds. 

Remember when we used to do stuff like that? Just sit together. I’d read something and maybe stroke your hair, and you’d be thinking quietly to yourself. Then you’d take my hand and it’d feel so natural. 

Please turn up. Please. 

I love you. 

Seb x


	90. The Morning Before Graduation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is called to a meeting with Corporal Benson.

Corporal Benson was the man all the young soldiers wanted to impress. He had a strong Manchester accent, broad shoulders, and dark hair that was thinning at the crown of his head. Despite his signs of ageing, and the stomach that was clearly now getting out of shape, the man commanded a certain respect from all those of lesser ranks. He might not have been a Sergeant or even a Captain, but stories of his military operations were told often by the new recruits, as was the story of his eventual injury and maiming. 

Sebastian idolised him heavily. He was a man that sucked up any pain or adversity and turned it to his advantage. He’d been wounded in combat ten years ago, but he’d recovered and now worked at Sandhurst, ready to spot the absolute best and take them under his wing. His limp was testament to his courage and bravery. He’d taken a bullet to the leg which put him out of action for a year, but still he was determined to serve the military in any capacity he could.

Rifleman Moran was one of the absolute best. Corporal Benson had seen something in the boy from the start, beginning on the day of his transfer to Sandhurst. 

There was a hunger in the boy, a fierce determination to prove himself, which was always a healthy attitude in a soldier. But alongside that dedication and his ability to take direction and improve, the boy was startlingly bright. He had four A-levels, and had a brain for strategy. Both innovative and able to follow orders to the letter, Sebastian Moran was a very rare specimen indeed. 

Corporal Benson had known the late Augustus Moran in his youth. Augustus had been a brilliant young soldier, exactly like his son. He’d made it to the rank of Colonel before he’d snapped. Advanced to that prestigious title long before his time, because of his massive potential. It had happened to far more good men than Corporal Benson cared to count, the snapping. The war changed them. 

But in Sebastian, Corporal Benson could see even more potential than his late father. He seemed more intelligent than his father had been, and was possibly more capable, which was really saying something, since Colonel Augustus Moran had won the respect of the entire British Army. 

It was a shame, all that business with the police and the court case against Colonel Augustus, Benson thought. Sebastian would have done well under the tutelage of a soldier like Augustus from a young age. He could have been spectacular already. 

Certainly Sebastian was looking to command his own regiment at some point, and he’d be fast-tracked up the ranks as quickly as they were able. There was a general consensus that the boy represented true British spirit, and partly, the act of advancing him was out of respect for his father. They hoped Sebastian would replicate his reputation and success.

Corporal Benson hadn’t discussed his ambitions for Sebastian with the boy. It never did the soldiers any good to have their young egos inflated. If anything, it was best to keep them striving to be better, so they were more malleable and better absorbed whatever they were taught. 

But on the day before Sebastian’s graduation out of training, before he could head into the advanced set and see some active service, learning on the job, Corporal Benson received a phone call which threatened the future of the young soldier.

It was his duty to break the news to Rifleman Moran. It was also his duty to remain professional, even in the face of such news. Although it was never easy to do so, and Corporal Benson despised this part of his job. 

His recruits were like his own sons, at least, he thought of them that way, being childless himself. He had watched them grow into men, and to see them in pain hurt him. Not that he’d let that show. He was a soldier, after all, and had to push his own personal feelings aside. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Rifleman Moran entered the office. Left, right, left, right, stop. 

He resembled his father heavily, Benson thought. They shared the same facial structure and blue eyes. Although Rifleman Moran was taller than his father had been, less broad, and far more solemn. 

“Take a seat, Rifleman Moran,” Benson said, gesturing at the chair on the other side of his desk. 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” 

The young soldier sat down where he was bidden, straight-backed, attentive, and regimental. His posture was still and respectful. They’d taught him well. The best recruits didn’t fidget. Fidgeting displayed unease, weakness, and a lack of self-control. 

“I have some news for you,” Benson announced. “I’m afraid it’s not the good sort.” 

Sebastian kept his gaze steady, although he swallowed. 

Seb had been dreading this meeting since it had been called that morning. It was too close to his deployment. He feared that somehow his mental health and records with anger management had worked to stop them from sending him out. That maybe the opposition had been too strong at the last hurdle. That they didn’t trust him in active combat. 

He was angry, deep inside. But he knew well enough to keep that down. He stored it for later, in case he needed it. Let it burn cold in his gut, the way Jim had taught him to repress the initial surges of fury. 

He was better than the lot of them. He was the best shot they had. The most promising recruit since his own father. If they were going to let him go now, after all his hard work, after proving himself time and time again, then he wasn’t going to take it lightly.

Sebastian believed he’d won his place. That he’d earned it. And that deployment was his reward. He was so ready to be deployed, so desperate to get out there and shoot people, to make a name for himself, to use his alarming accuracy and intelligence in a real-world conflict scenario. 

He’d prepared his respectful but impassioned speech in his head. He had enough arguments to last him a lifetime. He wasn’t going to let them push him aside now. There was no way in hell he was going to be dropped by the military the way his parents had dropped him. This time he was worthy. The chance was his to take.

Benson surveyed the young soldier, oblivious to the inner workings of his mind, and nodded his head. 

“I don’t enjoy giving news of family bereavements, but it’s my job.”

“Sir?” 

Benson noticed that Sebastian’s knuckles were white on his knees. His eyes had taken on a sudden wild desperation. If he hadn’t been in his professional frame of mind, it would have touched him. 

“Rifleman Moran,” he said evenly. “I’m sorry to inform you that your adoptive brother, James, has passed away.” 

Sebastian went deadly still, seemed to stop breathing for a long moment. He appeared paralysed with shock. His expression didn’t change. 

Then suddenly, he doubled over in his chair, and Benson only just managed to hand the waste-paper bin to him in time, as the young Rifleman vomited, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. 

“It’s alright, son,” Corporal Benson said, moving around the desk and patting Sebastian on the back. It was the closest to affection he ever gave the soldiers in his charge. “It’s tough news, lad, but we pick ourselves back up.”

Sebastian continued convulsing and vomiting until finally he went still, and his military posture failed him. His shoulders slumped and he spat into the bin.

“How?” Seb grunted out, eyes on the ground.

“Not sure yet,” Benson admitted. “They’re investigating it right now. Best not to jump the gun.”

Sebastian flexed his fingers and sniffed in deeply through his nose. It was a suicide. It had to be a suicide.

“We want you to deploy, because you’ve got the talent,” Benson said quietly. “And I hate to remind you, but you’re bound to serve for a minimum of four years, by military law. However, I think you’ll be allowed time off, to attend the funeral, to mourn.” 

Sebastian didn’t respond. He wouldn’t raise his head. Benson wondered if that was because he was afraid of someone seeing the tears in his eyes. Rifleman Moran was notoriously hard to crack. He’d never been reduced to any emotion other than anger at any part of his training. It was a point of pride with him, it seemed. 

“I’ve been in touch with your first contact, Dawn Young, and she’s already here in the country for your graduation tomorrow. I think it would do you good to see her.” 

Sebastian attempted to say ‘yes, sir’, but he found himself unable to speak. Instead he panted and swallowed loudly. He felt like he’d slipped into a nightmare.

“As a soldier, you have to make your peace with death, lad. It happens to the best of us,” Benson said kindly. 

“Shouldn’t’ve been him,” Sebastian grunted. His tone was the dead centre of fury and despair.

Benson nodded. He’d witnessed this hundreds of times before. He’d delivered all sorts of bad news over the years, watched hundreds of soldiers, even the most stoic, crumble in their moment of weakness and stunned vulnerability.

“We pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and move on. Make him proud. Keep him in your mind and fight for him. Use what you’re feeling against the enemy. Put that passion into your missions. Be a man. This is when you decide, Sebastian. Are you a man, or are you a boy?” 

Sebastian swallowed and sniffed, blinking away any trace of tears, although his eyes were red. 

“Man, sir,” he managed to pant out.

Benson nodded approvingly. “You may go. I wish you the best, Rifleman Moran. I’m sorry for your loss. Good luck with your graduation tomorrow.”


	91. Graduation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian graduates from his basic military training and waits for Jim's funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author's note: Have no fear, I'll tell you when we reach the end. That time is not quite upon us.)

He’d done the drill, done the military parade, stood in line, listened to the band play, loud and brash. Now he waited, like a toy soldier, clad in his best uniform, freshly ironed, on what was supposed to be the happiest and most fulfilling day of his military life. 

Passing out was a massive achievement. Lots of recruits abandoned the course, some were discharged, many simply couldn’t cut it and were told to leave. Only the best had graduated the sniper course. The best and the brightest.

That morning, Sebastian’s ‘friends’ had been celebrating. They were in high spirits, chatting about their families, their girlfriends, even their kids in some instances. Some were heading out to Bosnia for active combat, some to Northern Ireland. A handful were staying in London for military displays and sentry duty. 

Sebastian had woken up in the same way he’d gone to sleep. Numb. Empty. He wasn’t sure if he was even alive anymore. He wanted it to be a nightmare, but he knew it wasn’t. The details were too sharp for it to be happing inside his head. Rough wood against Seb’s palms, burning his fingers on the iron to see if he could still feel it, the cool, smooth sensation of his shiny silver belt buckle, reminded him that this was real.

Major Richardson moved along the ranks at a leisurely pace. He was an old man and his back was crooked. Still, he walked with a certain dignity, despite his age.

“Rifleman Moran, sir,” another soldier said, gesturing at Sebastian. He’d been introducing all the soldiers to the Major. 

In the distance, Sebastian saw the flash of a camera. Raj was taking a picture to commemorate the moment. 

“Ah,” the old man said, nodding. His voice was weak and wavering, although it held a posh accent. “I’ve certainly heard that name before.”

Sebastian didn’t respond. He wasn’t in the mood for meaningless small talk. 

“And you’re being deployed to Bosnia, I hear?” 

Obviously, you fucking senile old idiot, Sebastian thought viciously. He kept it to himself and nodded his head stiffly. 

“Looking forward to your first tour of duty?” the old Major asked with a wry smile.

Seb felt nothing.

“Yes, sir.” 

“Are you prepared?” 

Prepared for everything and nothing. What happened to him now was of no consequence.

Sebastian didn’t care. It didn’t matter anymore. The crowd didn’t matter. The military band didn’t matter. The Major talking to him didn’t matter. The soldiers on either side of him in their stupid fucking arrangement didn’t matter. 

They were pawns on a chess board, all for show. Cannon fodder, just like Jim had always said. At least, the other blokes would be. Not him.

“Yes, sir.” 

“I see. Not a talkative lad, then?”

Sebastian didn’t deign to reply.

“Well, I hope you’ll represent us on the field of battle to the best of your ability, and that you’ll use your new skills in a way that makes your country proud.” 

The country? What did the country matter? The country could go to hell. It could burn along with all the people, screaming and falling and sinking and crying. Screeching for mercy from a god that didn’t even exist. 

Seb would happily have watched every last stinking person, including himself, set alight. Left in agony as the world crumbled.

Sounded like a laugh, actually. 

“Best of luck, Rifleman Moran,” said the Major, sensing the young man wasn’t enjoying the exchange of pleasantries. 

“Sir.” 

Sebastian saluted, the way he’d been taught, and waited for the old man to move along the line to the next soldier. He was pathetic, Seb thought privately. Past his time. Be in a home before too long. Dribbling his food down his front and needing assistance to use the toilet. 

In the distance, a tinny tune suddenly sounded, breaking through the crisp, ceremonial atmosphere. 

‘Do you remember a guy that’s been, in such an early song? I’ve got a rumour from Ground Control. Oh no! Don’t say it’s true…’

Bowie. Ashes to Ashes. One of Seb’s favourites.

The music was coming from the edge of the crowd. From the hand of a man leaning leisurely against the metal railings beside the main seating area. The opposite end to where Dawn, Raj, and baby Aaron were seated, clapping and smiling. 

The man’s face was hidden by a hoodie that shielded his eyes, a shadow cast over his features. But he was staring. Right at him. Right at Sebastian. 

‘They got a message from the action man: I’m happy, hope you’re happy too. I’ve loved all I’ve needed love. Sordid details following…’

Sebastian licked his lips and tried to ignore it. The song made him think of Jim. It made him think of afternoons spent in Jim’s office, dancing occasionally, Jim sashaying and trying to be seductive, sometimes just jumping about and laughing, dark, pointed eyebrows raised. 

‘Ashes to ashes, funk to funky. We know Major Tom’s a junkie. Strung out in heaven’s high. Hitting an all-time low…’

The man was getting glared at now. He was interrupting the ceremony with his radio or tape player or whatever it was he was brandishing and refusing to turn off. People could be heard mumbling loudly, hissing. ‘Disrespectful’ was one word that echoed out to where Sebastian stood. ‘Get him out’ was another. ‘Turn it the fuck off and show some respect to our boys!’ was one that wasn’t said so quietly. It was shouted over to the man by one of the proud fathers in the stands. 

‘Oh no, not again. I’m stuck with a valuable friend: I’m happy, hope you’re happy too. One flash of light but no smoking pistol…’

To the sound of much cheering by the crowd, two soldiers roughly grabbed the unprotesting and apparently unconcerned man and began to escort him away from the area. The intruder, that continued to stare at Sebastian for as long as he could, was frogmarched away, his music playing eerily into the distance, getting distorted by the wind.

‘My mother said, to get things done, you’d better not mess with Major Tom…’ 

The ceremony continued as though nothing had happened. 

‘My mother said, to get things done, you’d better not mess with Major Tom…” 

Sebastian wanted to scream. Only he couldn’t scream. He wasn’t sure he remembered how. All he knew was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he was being dragged beneath the sea and drowned slowly. But he didn’t die. His body wouldn’t let him succumb.

Rifleman Moran stood tall and proud and noble. Inside, ‘Bastian was dying, just the same as his boyfriend before him. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian was spending the week leading up to Jim’s funeral living with Dawn and Raj and baby Aaron in a rented flat, instead of at the barracks. He had permission from his superiors to settle himself down for a time, to grieve and mourn and move on.

His deployment was looming, and a man shouldn’t have grief like that hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles, Corporal Benson had told his own superiors when fighting Rifleman Moran’s corner. Not when it was vital he prepared himself both mentally and physically for active combat in a war zone. 

On the first night, after his graduation, Sebastian had refused to speak. He’d shut himself away in the spare bedroom and punched the walls. He’d cried silently into his pillow and vomited into a bucket. 

He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten. Hasn’t allowed himself a single shred of mercy.

He needed to stay alive until the funeral. That was important, somehow. It felt like it mattered. 

Sebastian’s fear was that nobody would attend, and Jim would leave the world in the same way he came. Alone. Unwanted. Unloved. 

And Jim had been so loved. So fucking loved that Sebastian didn’t know how to express it.

Dawn was different now. She had put on even more weight, and her skin was healthily tanned. She smelled of talcum powder and babies. Raj was skinnier, although other than that he seemed the same as Seb remembered him. Still wearing shirts under ugly jumpers, still with thick black glasses, a long, hooked nose and a smiling face with kind eyes.

Dawn had picked up a lot of Punjabi, and often spoke to Raj or Aaron in the language. She’d picked up some new recipes too, not that Sebastian touched his food. It smelled good, though, spicy and intriguing. Seb reckoned he would have liked it if he’d had an appetite.

Dawn and Raj referred to him as Uncle Sebastian whenever Aaron was in the room. They talked of Jim as Uncle Jim too. Sebastian had overheard Dawn when she was trying to settle inquisitive little Aaron in his car seat. 

“We have to go and say goodbye to Uncle Jim now, Aaron,” she’d said in an odd voice reserved only for babies. “That’s why we’re back here where Mummy was born. So you be a good boy for me. You’d have liked Uncle Jim very much. He was clever like you, isn’t that right? Clever boy…”

Sebastian had slunk away around the corner for a smoke then. He didn’t want to be caught or to admit he’d overheard that.

Baby Aaron was a lovely little boy, but Sebastian couldn’t bond with him. He deliberately stopped himself. Because getting attached to a person was painful. They’d only get taken away.

Dawn plopped baby Aaron down onto Sebastian’s lap one evening with a sad smile. Aaron liked the look of Seb right away. He tried to reach for his face and turn in his arms to get a better look at him. He tried to talk too, but only ended up making noises and squirming and blowing bubbles. 

Seb instinctively held him carefully against his body, protective, even in his most apathetic state. He cradled the little kid and kissed him on the top of his dark head. It was in his nature to protect. Even if he wouldn’t allow his emotions to latch onto the baby. They weren’t related by blood. Sebastian had no family now. Jim had been that, and now he was gone.

It was the eyes that killed him, though. Seeing that tiny, inquisitive, brown-eyed being in his arms made Sebastian want to be sick again. 

Aaron nestled happily against his Uncle Sebastian, and ended up falling asleep against his chest, dribbling all over him.

Dawn got him to help out with Aaron a lot in the week that followed. She was trying to keep him occupied, Seb knew, but it was better than sitting alone and thinking about the funeral to come. 

And then after. 

After the funeral Sebastian intended to swallow as many pills as he’d managed to get his hands on and wash them down with Vodka. If that didn’t work, he’d get back to the barracks, grab himself a gun at the first opportunity, and blow out his own brains. 

He and Jim were supposed to be together. Be that in life or death.

Somehow he knew he had to try the overdose first. It was what Jim would have preferred. He could imagine it now…

“You’re not going to spoil that handsome face of yours, are you? Or those pretty blue eyes. Oh, Sebastian. What am I going to do with you?” 

Jim’s own handsome face was gone. They’d found the body in the river, apparently, black and blue and bloody. His face was so badly damaged that it had taken them a while to identify the body as Jim’s. 

He’d been beaten up. Brutally attacked and then disposed of. Like he was nothing. Like that face hadn’t been Sebastian’s entire world. Like that brain that no longer surged with ideas had been a mere organ made of cells, instead of the most brilliant mind of the century. 

Sebastian suspected the members of Jim’s group had done it. Or a client. Could have been anyone. There was no evidence. And Seb knew enough about London’s police force to realise that there was no point in hoping for further developments.

He didn’t know whether he was supposed to kill them or not. The people that had stolen Jim. He wanted to. He wanted to rip off their limbs one by one as they screamed in agony, screamed for mercy. He wanted to gouge out their eyes. He’d slice open their backs and yank out their spines. He’d tear out tendons, slash through arteries and veins and ligaments. Inflict so much pain that they begged for death. 

Or was he supposed to follow instantly, the way he’d always said? Was he supposed to end his own life as punishment for his sins?

Jim had never said.

Was he the real culprit? While he was off learning how to be a soldier, he hadn’t been there to protect Jim. If only he’d stuck around then Jim might be alive. Jim might have been laughing at this moment. He might have been screaming with frustration or lashing out or scribbling out equations, or hissing threats down the phone to some mystery contact of his.

Was he Jim’s true murderer?

Had he done this?

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian suspected that Dawn knew what he was planning. She seemed even more concerned about him than she was about little Aaron, who needed to be cared for constantly, still being very young. 

She watched him sometimes, and tried to chat, even when he didn’t really respond. Raj was good too, although more careful about what he said and did. 

For the first time in his life, though, Sebastian was able to witness a proper father. A good father. It fascinated him, despite his apathy. 

Raj held Aaron proudly in his arms and chattered to him and sat him on his lap while they watched the television. He got up with him in the night, and fed him, pretending the spoon was an aeroplane. When Aaron accidentally slopped his food down himself, Raj just laughed good-naturedly and cleaned him up. He spoke to him in relaxing streams of Punjabi, a language that Sebastian instantly took to. He liked the sound of it. 

Sebastian seemed to remember being a little child and accidentally spilling his blackcurrant juice on the carpet. He’d been shouted at and slapped. He couldn’t imagine Dawn or Raj ever slapping Aaron for anything. They adored him. 

One day Sebastian had been heading to the kitchen for a glass of water, and had overheard Raj sitting in there talking to Aaron.

“Are you going to be a scientist like your Papaji? Or are you going to be a teacher like your Mataji?” 

He’d spotted Sebastian lurking in the doorway, not sure whether to intrude on the private moment or not. Raj smiled and beckoned him in. 

“Look, its Mama Seb. Say hello to Mama.” 

“Mama?” Seb asked, not understanding. 

“It means uncle in Punjabi,” Raj explained with a weak smile.”‘My mother’s brother.’ We’re trying to get Aaron to speak both languages. Hopefully he’ll pick them up.”

Sebastian grunted his agreement and shuffled into the kitchen.

“Family is very important in my culture,” Raj explained. “It’s what holds us all together.”

“Don’t have any,” Seb said with a shrug. He sat down at the kitchen table and watched Aaron as he examined his own chubby fingers with wonder and then slapped them against his forehead excitedly.

“Nonsense,” Raj said, shaking his head. Baby Aaron tried to copy him, but his head lolled slightly to one side. “We’re your family. You have a nephew now. You have Dawn and me. You have your friends in the military. You aren’t alone, Seb. Jim would want you to be happy.”

He wouldn’t, though, Sebastian thought to himself. Jim would want him to be devastated. Jim would want him to mourn and mourn and then join him. It was the way they worked. Nobody else understood. 

“Do you want to help feed him?” Raj offered, gesturing at the baby food on the table. It looked disgusting to Seb, a mush of crushed brown ingredients, but Aaron seemed excited by it. 

“Don’t know how,” Seb admitted, trying not to seem too keen on the idea. Because Jim was dead, and he didn’t have a right to be interested in anything. 

Raj smiled again and fixed his glasses on his nose. 

“Food on spoon, spoon in Aaron’s mouth,” he said good-naturedly. “Go on. Aaron likes you.” 

“How can you tell?” Seb asked, reluctantly shifting over and taking the spoon. 

“Look at him.” 

Seb did so. Aaron was staring at Sebastian with rapt attention. He kept opening his mouth wide to be fed, brown eyes large and intrigued. His tiny fingers reached out to be held.

With a grimace of determination, wary that he might get something wrong, Sebastian held the spoon to Aaron’s mouth. He dribbled a bit but accepted the food with a gargle and a little pleased noise.

“Got some food on his bib,” Seb pointed out apologetically.

“That’s what it’s there for. You’re doing well. Is it alright if I leave you with him while I run and grab some milk?” 

“Er…”

“Dawn’s in the bathroom. If you need her, give her a knock. I think she’s dyeing her hair.”

Sebastian paused, momentarily uncertain. 

“You sure you trust me to… y’know…”

Raj placed a comforting hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. It was all Seb could do not to lean into that touch. 

“Of course I trust you. I’ll be five minutes.”

Left with the baby, Sebastian watched him, and Aaron watched right back. 

He looked more like Raj than Dawn. He had his father’s colouring, although Seb thought he could maybe see some of Dawn’s kindness in the baby’s eyes. 

Sebastian got on with his task, methodically feeding the well-behaved and quiet little being that couldn’t seem to take his eyes off him. Aaron didn’t cry and he didn’t complain. 

“Children like you. You’re like the Pied Piper of Hamelin to the little brats,” Jim had once mused, when one of the little girls had presented Sebastian with a daisy chain one afternoon. 

Seb had scoffed at that, but Jim had been deadly serious. Children did seem to take to him. 

In the end, Seb wiped Aaron’s mouth with his bib, picked him up and sat him on his lap. He stroked his tufts of thick, black hair and hugged him lightly as Aaron gargled and kicked his chubby legs happily. Seb didn’t think he’d ever seen a baby with a better temperament. He supposed it was because the kid was Dawn and Raj’s. And that he didn’t have a single reason to be unhappy yet.

He heard the sound of papers falling on the mat in the corridor and looked up. 

Just because he hated sitting still, he picked Aaron up, carried him on his hip, and stalked out into the hall, careful to support Aaron’s head as he walked. 

It was just the usual junk mail. Three leaflets piled up on the mat. A shadow passed the door and went on to the next flat. 

With a sigh, Seb reached down, careful not to drop Aaron, who giggled as he was dipped, and picked them up, examining them with a grimace. 

The first was about some independent politician for the local area, trying to garner votes. The second was an advert for life insurance. The third, some religious booklet. Looked like it could be from the Jehovah’s Witnesses, but Seb couldn’t be bothered to find out. He’d never liked them. The only ones he’d ever met thought being gay was a sin.

He went back into the kitchen and sat down, putting the post on the table and arranging Aaron on his lap again. The baby tried to chew on Sebastian’s t-shirt, despite only having one tiny tooth growing out of his gums. 

Dawn still wasn’t done dyeing her hair, so Sebastian traced his fingers over the three leaflets. He was bored. Needed to exercise. To get out of the fucking flat and do something. Go for a run, maybe. 

The face of local independent politician Amir Trimjoy smiled smugly up at him from the first leaflet. Sebastian wanted to punch the look right off his face, although Seb had felt that way about most people over the past few days. 

Then Aaron reached out for the leaflet, so Seb let him chew on it. 

'When life is over, it’s not always the end,' said the life insurance leaflet. Sebastian’s stomach clenched and he gritted your teeth. 'For loved ones left behind, it can be a difficult time. Have you made plans? Are you covered?' 

Sebastian screwed that advert up in a ball and threw it across the room into the bin. Aaron continued to dribble over Amir Trimjoy’s attempt to draw local support. 

Then there was only the religious bullshit left. Seb glared at it.

‘HE is always watching. HE is always listening. HE is vengeful. HE is loving. HE will be your salvation, your fortune, your terror, your rapture. Do not give up on HIM and HE will deliver you.’ 

“Fucking bullshit,” Sebastian muttered aggressively, going to screw it up. Aaron didn’t seem to mind his swearing at all. He continued to chew on his own leaflet. Seb decided to pluck it out of his hands before he swallowed any of the paper. 

On the back of the religious propaganda there were three more quotes, in italic letters: 

‘Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men of courage; be strong.- Corinthians 16:13’

‘A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.-Proverbs 17:17’

‘I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you, Sebastian. – Psalm 32:8’

Sebastian almost choked. 

‘With my eye upon you, Sebastian.’

“Dawn!” Seb shouted, picking Aaron up and rushing down the hall, hammering on the bathroom door. “Dawn!” 

Aaron giggled because they were going so fast.

“Is everything alright?” Dawn called out. 

“Raj’s gone out. Can you take Aaron? I need to do something!” 

She appeared moments later with a towel draped around her hair, balanced on the top of her head. Seb thrust baby Aaron into his mothers arms, stepped into his trainers, and tore out of the flat, panting. 

It had been minutes, but the person that had delivered the leaflet couldn’t be too far away.

He sprinted down the street, past the block of flats, avoiding cars, checking down side roads. His expression was grim, desperate. Seb panted and tore at his own hair as he stopped on the spot. There was no way he’d be able to find the person that had delivered the leaflets now. They were long gone. 

Seb gave a shout of fury and began to kick at a nearby bin, scattering the contents on the road. An old lady tried to tell him off, but he didn’t listen. Just kept kicking and swearing and punching until he sank onto the pavement, amidst the rubbish, and curled up, head in his hands.

“Oi? You going to clear that up, love?” the old woman asked. “This is my estate you’re fucking up.”

Sebastian sniffed and clamped his eyes shut.

Sensing his troubled demeanor, the old woman softened her expression and paused, settling her shopping bags on the pavement.

“Want a cuppa?” she asked in a strong East End accent. 

On another day Sebastian might have said yes. But not now. Not without Jim. 

“Fuck the hell off or I’ll break your neck,” Sebastian grunted at her. 

She swore under her breath, looked indignant, and shuffled off with her bags of shopping, trainers squeaking on the pavement as she cleared off.

He was going mad, wasn’t he? He’d imagined his own name on that stupid fucking leaflet. He wanted Jim so badly that he was cracking up. 

Seb smacked his own forehead three times and yanked at his hair. A clump came out. He barely even felt it.

“Please come back,” Sebastian found himself muttering to himself. “Please come back. Don’t be fucking dead. Don’t be dead, you fucker. Don’t do this to me. You shit. You fucking piece of shit. Come back…”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When Sebastian turned up back at the flat, Dawn and Raj were sitting in the living room together. Aaron had been put to bed for a nap.

“You okay?” Dawn asked, sitting up, looking worried. 

Seb nodded, despite his red-rimmed eyes and his messed up hair. He was sure his jeans were dirty from where he’d been sitting on the pavement. 

He went into the kitchen to grab the three leaflets, but they weren’t on the table any more. Desperate now, he sat on the kitchen floor and began rooting through the bin bag, searching for them. 

“Seb?” Dawn asked from the doorway. She was peering at him oddly, looking soft and concerned. 

“Just chucked something I needed,” Seb explained as he found one of them. He carried on until he had all three. 

Dawn watched Sebastian carefully. There was something very wrong with him. If anything, he was acting more like Jim than himself. He seemed manic instead of stoic. Enthused with an eccentric form of energy. 

“Is there anything you need?” she asked. “Anything I can get you?” 

“No, ‘m fine,” Seb insisted, getting up and stalking past Dawn, heading for his bedroom clutching his leaflets, closing his bedroom door behind him without a second glance. 

He flopped down on the single bed and re-read them all. 

‘I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you, Sebastian. – Psalm 32:8’

It said his name. It was for him. It was personal. It had to be.

Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim; Sebastian’s mind screamed. It was the type of thing Jim would do, wasn’t it? Or was it? 

‘HE is always watching. HE is always listening. HE is vengeful. HE is loving. HE will be your salvation, your fortune, your terror, your rapture. Do not give up on HIM and HE will deliver you.’ 

That rang a bell. Fortune, terror, rapture? Had Jim said that before?

Or was he now imagining the words in Jim’s voice? Was he cracking up?

Was his name even printed on that page, or was it in his head? Could he risk asking Dawn for a second opinion?

No. It was private. And if they found out he was hallucinating, they’d section him or worse.

He picked up the life insurance advert and re-read the words. They suddenly took on new meaning. 

‘When life is over, it’s not always the end.’

That was something. It had to be. 

Or was it just the usual advertising jargon?

Finally he smoothed out the leaflet Aaron had been chewing. It was still mushy at one corner. 

But no matter how many times Seb read it, there was nothing there. No link to Jim whatsoever. Not even a hint. Just Amir’s smug, patronising face and some proposed policies.

Which meant it had to be in his head. Because all three had come together. And if this was a message, they’d all lead to the same conclusion, wouldn’t they?

Jim liked things clever and neat.

Had liked that. 

Past tense. 

Dead, Sebastian reminded himself. Dead and gone. 

Not sending secret messages with junk mail. Just dead. In a morgue somewhere. About to be buried. Never going to laugh or cry or scream or lash out or snuffle in his sleep ever again. Never going to snuggle against him or carve into his skin, never going to be sick into a toilet bowl and need his back rubbed. Never going to tremble as he came or injure himself or kiss Sebastian with that desperate, possessive passion.

Dead with his face bashed in and his bones broken. 

Cold and alone and never coming back. 

Sebastian kicked off his trainers, crawled fully-clothed under his covers, and closed his eyes.


	92. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian attends Jim's funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of self harm and mental health.

It was the day of the funeral. 

Sebastian had been going to wear his best military uniform up until the last day. But then he’d realised Jim wouldn’t have wanted that. He’d have seen it as an insult. So instead he went out, bought himself the smartest suit he could find, closest to the one Jim had bought him for the award ceremony at his school. He’d probably picked the wrong cut or the wrong colour or something, but he thought that if Jim was watching from wherever he was now, he’d probably appreciate the sentiment.

Or laugh himself silly at how stupid he looked.

The car journey was mostly silent. Sebastian sat in the front of the car with Raj, who drove carefully, tentative and quiet with respect. Baby Aaron gurgled in the back in his car seat, and Dawn sat beside him, trying to stop him from dribbling over his own little black outfit.

Dawn was clad in a pair of smart black trousers, a black top, and a gold locket around her neck. Inside was a lock of Aaron’s dark hair. She’d shown Seb that before. Raj was in a suit that was far too big for him in the torso, but too short in the legs. His red socks were on display, although Seb thought Jim would probably appreciate that little detail. Aaron was dressed in a tiny pair of dark jeans and a black-t-shirt. He had a dummy in his mouth to make sure he didn’t make too much noise during the ceremony. 

Seb knew Jim wouldn’t have minded if he did, and besides, Aaron wasn’t the type of kid that cried much. Only when he was hungry, really, like most kids, and Seb could already tell the difference between his hungry crying and his genuine crying. Neither happened often. 

Jim had told him once that he’d screamed a lot as a little baby. Seb could imagine that. Jim as a kid would have been cute as hell, he thought, but probably a real handful to look after. Seb didn’t know what he’d been like. He’d never asked his mother about it. He imagined himself being adventurous, probably quite boisterous, and also most likely quiet. But that was all guesswork. There was no way of knowing now.

They looked like an odd party, the four of them, as they traipsed through the car park. Raj was trying to stay cheerful and kept tickling little Aaron and making him chuckle to himself. Dawn stayed close to Sebastian who walked with his head down, although his posture was quite obviously military. He marched like a soldier, long, even strides, straight-backed with arms swinging rhythmically by his sides. He kept sniffing in the London pollution and swallowing hard. Dawn watched him carefully, protective and gentle, as they entered the funeral home. 

Verity was already there, standing in the waiting room looking harassed and clutching a large black handbag. She was wearing a long black dress and smart heels, her hair scraped back from her face. She gave Sebastian a weak attempt at a smile as he entered, but he didn’t return it. Jim wouldn’t have wanted her there.

There were three other people in attendance, sitting in the waiting area. Two chatted together and looked around the same age, quite young, so Seb assumed they were from Jim’s university, or from the special school he’d attended before that. The last was an old man with thinning grey hair who wore a bow-tie and waistcoat. He looked like a teacher, so Seb supposed he might have been one of Jim’s personal tutors.

The vicar wore what looked like a long black robe, and the usual white collar, and swept into the room. Seb scowled at the sight of the man, so clean-cut and kindly and patronising. Jim would have spat in the man’s stupidly optimistic face. 

Yet he was the man that had been chosen to overlook Jim’s service. 

“Shall we go in?” he asked in a soft, mournful voice. He gestured at the double doors, and the guests seemed to wait for Sebastian’s movement. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable under their scrutiny, he stalked through the doors and ignored the vicar, taking a seat right at the back of the hall where people wouldn’t be able to stare at him. 

Jim wouldn’t have minded that, he thought. He would have understood.

As the rest of the attendees settled down, leaving the room cold and empty, the vicar cleared his throat and gazed out at them as though the room had been full of his enthusiastic congregation. 

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of James Moriarty,” he began in his infuriating tones. Sebastian hated the way Jim’s name sounded in his voice. He wanted to yell that it was Jim. Jim Moriarty. Not fucking James. But he remained still and silent and swallowed hard. 

Sebastian allowed himself to zone out as the vicar spoke. The religious stuff didn’t matter. Jim had never believed in it.

He found himself glancing around the room at the guests as the vicar droned on, sitting in clusters. Dawn and Raj and Aaron sitting in the row in front of him, because he’d wanted to be alone. The two teenagers by themselves in the middle of the room. Verity at the front, and Jim’s tutor on the second row back, to the left.

That was a kick in the teeth. The turnout. For all Jim’s academic achievements, for all that excitement over his mathematical and scientific capabilities, only one tutor had turned up. It was a fucking joke. 

Later on, that single tutor stood up to make a speech.

“James was the brightest student I ever taught,” the man said, talking as though he was giving a lecture. “His understanding of higher mathematics, I found to be phenomenal for a boy of his young age. One paper he wrote and passed on to me to read, was so complex that I could not fully take in the meaning. Nor could my colleagues. Although all his statements and assertions could not be proved false. It is a piece of work I will always feel privileged to have read.” 

Seb felt a surge of pride, which was followed by a sensation similar to a punch in the gut. The Dynamics of an Asteroid would never get published now. Jim’s name would fade. He would never be listed alongside Einstein and John Nash.

“It is so often the case that the more gifted of us all suffer the most intensely, and James was one of those people. Plagued by his own incredible intellect and capacity for problem solving.”

Cursed, more like, Seb thought. It hadn’t been fair. Jim hadn’t deserved that hell inside his own brain. Seb would gladly have taken it in his place.

The tutor trotted back to his seat, muttering under his breath about superb mathematics. He was an eccentric. Sebastian wasn’t sure he liked him. He seemed to be grieving more for the loss of Jim’s future mathematical breakthroughs than his life.

Sebastian hadn’t wanted to speak, although he’d been offered the opportunity. What he had to say to Jim was personal. He didn’t want anyone listening in. So Dawn took the place of a member of his family and walked up the aisle to read a short speech. 

“Jim was always a funny boy,” she began, in a voice that sounded ready to break at any moment. Seb was glad that someone had finally got his name right. “Very clever, very spirited, very fiercely loving when he wanted to be.” 

That was such a good description of Jim jammed into one sentence that Seb had to swallow and flex his fingers to keep himself composed. 

“He was a very special person. I always liked him,” Dawn continued, dabbing at her eyes with a scrunched up tissue. “He meant a lot to those that knew him, and I wish my son, Aaron, had met him.”

Upon hearing his name, baby Aaron waved his hands excitedly. 

“I remember one week when Sebastian was away, I spent a lot of time with Jim. He’d sit with me while I did the washing up or the laundry. And he’d chatter away. I like to think that he felt comfortable around me. At least a little. But there was no one he was happiest with than Sebastian. They were always a pair. And they clearly made each other very happy.”

She had to break off to sob. Little Aaron made a confused squealing noise, not liking seeing his mother looking so sad. Raj patted him on the top of his head to keep him quiet. 

“I’m sorry for Jim, and I’m sorry for Seb, who’s like a brother to me, and was a brother and more to Jim. I’m sorry for my son, because he never met Jim and never will. We won’t let Jim be forgotten.”

She went to sit back down and Raj held her hand. Sebastian couldn’t look at her properly. He felt oddly betrayed, although her words had been perfect. Because she had said goodbye to Jim now. She had closure.

Seb was the only one that hadn’t given up, even as the coffin sat in the room with them.

He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. Couldn’t have been. 

Somehow, they’d got hold of a piece of Jim’s schoolwork, and the vicar read it out. It was from when he was a little boy, and the words were so potently Jim that Sebastian felt he’d been dragged back in time and was sitting opposite a sulky little eight year old with his pale legs crossed and his lips pouting and uncooperative.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

‘Name: Jim Moriarty. Jim. Jim. Jim! Not James. If you call me James you’re stupid and I won’t answer you and you can’t tell me off because it’s YOUR fault.

Age: 8 ½ 

Ambition: Too many to count and I wouldn’t tell you anyway.

Favourite colour: Lilac sometimes, but blue as well. It’s a secret why.

Favourite sound: None. 

Favourite animal: None.

Best friend and why: Seb. And it’s another secret. But probably because he’s so shy but not with me. I can make him talk if I want and I can make him happy even when he’s sad or angry.

Do you have a pet?: No, but I have Seb and he’s better. Animals are stupid and they smell and don’t do what you say.

Family: I like to pretend I am an orphan. In my head I am. Seb thinks we’re brothers. I sometimes agree but not always.

Favourite thing to do: Eat sweets or chocolate or do maths.

What are you good at? : Maths and remembering things.

What are you bad at? : Being good when I don’t want to be. 

Fact about yourself: I hate homework because it’s stupid. And I hate teachers that tell me off. ‘

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Everyone laughed at that, even Verity. Seb felt his lips curling into a smirk, but then fought it away. He shouldn’t have been smiling. Not when Jim was dead. 

He remembered that particular homework task. Jim had completed it while laying on the bedroom floor on his tummy, legs swinging up behind him. He’d hummed to himself and frowned at his school homework book as he scrawled down his answers with his left hand. 

Seb had completed the same homework task, and he still remembered his own answers to the same questions: 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

‘Name: Sebastian Augustus Moran

Age: 10

Ambition: To be a soldier.

Favourite colour: Blue.

Favourite sound: Rain on the roof. 

Favourite animal: I don’t really know. We aren’t allowed pets and I haven’t seen many. 

Best friend and why: Jim Moriarty. He’s my best friend because he’s clever, funny and doesn’t mind when I don’t talk much or get angry. 

Do you have a pet? : No. I think I’d like one, though. To look after.

Family: My Father was a soldier and fought bravely in the army. My mum is called Eleanor. 

Favourite thing to do: Running, swimming, climbing trees, or listening to Jim tell stories. 

What are you bad at? : Remembering to pray every night and obey the Ten Commandments. I am also bad at controlling my temper but I am trying to be good. 

Fact about yourself: At Scouts I won a prize for map reading. Some of the other boys were much older than me. ‘ 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur of emotion that swirled in Sebastian’s gut but refused to outwardly show itself. 

There were a couple of hymns, religious bullshit mostly. Nothing like what Jim would have wanted. If he’d had his way they’d all be singing along to some camp disco tune. Seb didn’t sing at all. Didn’t even hum. Just stood in silence when everyone else got up and opened their hymn books. Aaron tried to sing a bit and earned himself a few laughs. Seb couldn’t smile even then.

The readings were equally as religious. Apparently as Jim had been christened back in Dublin, he was entitled to this religious ceremony. Didn’t matter that he hated religion. 

The vicar had his Bible open and still spoke as if the hall was full of people paying rapt attention to him, not an almost empty room of mourners.

“Mark: sixteen,” the vicar read out in his soft voice. Several people opened their Bibles as well to follow the text. Seb didn’t bother. 

“And when the sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices, that they might come and anoint him.”

“And very early on the first day of the week, they come to the tomb when the sun was risen.”

“And they were saying among themselves, Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the tomb?” 

“And looking up, they see that the stone is rolled back: for it was exceeding great.”

“And entering into the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, arrayed in a white robe; and they were amazed.” 

“And he saith unto them, Be not amazed: ye seek Jesus, the Nazarene, who hath been crucified: he is risen; he is not here: behold, the place where they laid him!”

“But go, tell his disciples and Peter, He goeth before you into Galilee: there shall ye see him, as he said unto you.” 

“And they went out, and fled from the tomb; for trembling and astonishment had come upon them: and they said nothing to any one; for they were afraid.”

“Now when he was risen early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, from whom he had cast out seven demons.”

“She went and told them that had been with him, as they mourned and wept.”

“And they, when they heard that he was alive, and had been seen of her, disbelieved.”

“And after these things he was manifested in another form unto two of them, as they walked, on their way into the country.”

“And they went away and told it unto the rest: neither believed they them.”

“And afterward he was manifested unto the eleven themselves as they sat at meat; and he upbraided them with their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they believed not them that had seen him after he was risen.”

“And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to the whole creation.”

“He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that disbelieveth shall be condemned.”

“And these signs shall accompany them that believe: in my name shall they cast out demons; they shall speak with new tongues;”

“They shall take up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall in no wise hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover.”

“So then the Lord Jesus, after he had spoken unto them, was received up into heaven, and sat down at the right hand of God.”

“And they went forth, and preached everywhere, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word by the signs that followed. Amen.”

Everyone mumbled ‘amen’ in answer, even Sebastian, before he had chance to stop himself. And then the service was over, and it was time to get in the cars and travel to the graveyard, where they’d be burying Jim under the earth. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

At the graveside, Seb stepped forward to scatter earth on the coffin before it was covered. It was cheap, plain, and basic. Not Jim at all. Made of light brown wood and nothing to distinguish it from any other coffin in the world. No sign that the body held within had been the most important person in Sebastian’s world. 

The government couldn’t afford marble and peacocks and blood red roses. To them, Jim was just another mentally ill care home teenager. Another sad loss that would be forgotten in mere months. They’d destroy his files and it would be like he’d never existed in the first place. 

Seb didn’t say a word, not in front of the other mourners. Partly because he was embarrassed to, and partly because Jim would have laughed had he been there. He would have reminded Sebastian that the dead didn’t have working ears and couldn’t listen.

So he stood, solemn and stoic, as the vicar read out his words. 

“We now commit his body to the ground; Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust: In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life…”

Absurdly, David Bowie seemed to materialise in Sebastian’s mind. 

‘Ashes to ashes, funk to funky, we know Major Tom’s a junkie. Strung out in heaven’s high, hitting an all-time low…’

He remembered Jim’s opinion of his Bowie obsession.

“Sebastian, he looks like an alien,” he’d drawled with distaste. 

“He’s cool.” 

“He’s got eyes that don’t match and sinister teeth.”

“Sinister teeth, my arse. This guy gets it.”

Jim had sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“I hope you won’t get any ideas.”

Seb had raised an offended eyebrow on behalf of his idol.

“Well, sweetheart, he is rather flamboyant. I don’t want you going the same way. I like you just the way you are. I’m the beautiful one, you’re the handsome one. And that’s how it’s going to stay.”

As if Seb had ever been going in that direction to start with. But Jim knew he wouldn’t. It was all part of their usual banter. Just the way they conversed. 

Thinking of Bowie and of Jim, Sebastian remembered the strange man at his military graduation with the handheld radio, tinny in the wind, broadcasting the song to the world. That had been a week ago now. One whole week without Jim. 

‘My mother said, to get things done, you’d better not mess with Major Tom…”

There had been something not quite right about that bloke. Sebastian had been dreaming about him. About the song he was playing, about the way he stared and stared and yet had nothing to say. 

He seemed important, somehow. 

But then, a lot of things seemed important to Sebastian now. His leaflets that he now hoarded and kept in a box under his bed in the spare room of Dawn and Raj’s rented flat. Songs he heard on the radio. Accents on the street. 

Two days previously he’d heard a man with an Irish accent, and gone sprinting through the crowds to catch a glimpse of him. 

But it hadn’t been Jim. Of course it hadn’t. Just another Irishman in London. 

The closer Seb got the more the realised that their voices barely resembled each other to start with.

You’re losing it, Moran, said Jim’s voice, the one that had taken over any monologues inside his own head. Pull yourself together, doofus.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When the coffin was buried under a new mound of earth, a headstone, cheap and made of wood, was erected beside it. Only Sebastian remained. The others had long since gone indoors. They’d wandered off to talk among themselves, but Seb didn’t feel lonely. 

He was glad of the peace. Time with Jim. Time alone. 

Although part of him still couldn’t accept that Jim was under the earth now. He understood that the police said Jim had been killed, and that the morticians had said he was definitely dead. He understood that Jim had never been invincible, and that Jim’s illegal dealings made him a more likely target than most. 

But still, something didn’t feel right. 

Because if Jim was dead, then he would have felt it, wouldn’t he? Surely he would. It couldn’t end like this. It couldn’t end with Jim dying alone and afraid and injured while Seb trained in Sandhurt, unknowing and useless.

Seb stood opposite Jim’s place of rest and took a deep breath.

He felt stupid, talking to a wooden cross sticking out of the ground, but it was the closest to Jim he was going to get for now. 

“Er… I…” 

He trailed off, uncertain. 

We pick ourselves up, Corporal Benson had told him. Are you a man, or a boy?

“You always went on about how you were evil. Or insane. Or broken,” he began, his voice low and rough with grief. “And sometimes you were a bastard, yeah. Sometimes you were a fucking little shit.” 

And he really had been. A proper manipulative little prick. The most wonderful manipulative prick in existence.

“But you were a good fucking person. I don’t care what anyone else says about you or what they think. They knew the business persona. They didn’t know you. Not properly. Not like I did.” 

Faltering in his emotion, Seb took a deep, steadying breath. It didn’t feel real, talking to nobody. Pretending Jim was there and could hear him. 

Needing some form of contact with his boyfriend, he walked closer to the wooden cross that marked his spot in the earth, and reached out a hand to touch it. It felt cheap and rough against his palm. 

“Before you I was nothing and I had nothing. My life was meaningless. I was so fucking lonely and I didn’t even know it. I just… I owe you everything. Fucking everything, Jim. Every good thing I am, it’s ‘cause of you, and a fair few of the bad things as well. “

Sebastian attempted to imagine an alternate life for himself, one in which Jim had never appeared and dragged him into trouble and love and happiness. It was impossible. He couldn’t remember being without Jim. He couldn’t remember a time before he’d belonged to that strange little boy from Dublin. 

“So… I love you. And I miss you and I…”

Sebastian stopped talking and pulled his hand away from the wooden cross. He started to march back towards the main building, too overwhelmed to continue. But at the last moment he spun around again, suddenly desperate, overflowing with words and emotions that he couldn’t fight to keep inside him. 

“Think I’m going crazy, Jim. And I’m scared. Really fucking scared. I’ve been praying. I know that’s pathetic, but I didn’t know what else to do. I keep seeing patterns. Everywhere, in everything. Truth is, I’m looking for you. ‘Cause I want you to be alive so badly. And I can’t tell if I’m just so desperate to have you back that I’m making this whole thing up, or if this is real.” 

He wiped his eyes fiercely with the back of his hand. He truly was losing it. He could feel himself going.

“I think I’m getting messages. I think you might be sending them. There were the leaflets. Three of them, but only two of them make any sense. And only one says my name, and to be honest, that could be bullshit. It could be me losing the plot. But there was the bloke playing Bowie at the graduation, and there’s no closure, and your face was bashed in…” 

The young solider broke off, suddenly angry, furious. His blood was pumping with pent up adrenaline. He clenched his jaw and snarled with fierce loyalty. 

“But I swear, Jim, if that was you. If that was your face they smashed in, then they’ll pay. Just as soon as I know it was, that this isn’t just some fucking trick, I’ll hunt them down and show them what it means to hurt you. I promise. I fucking swear to you, Jim. Fucking swear it…”

Panting, fists clenched, eyes welling up although he refused to let any tears fall, Sebastian gritted his teeth. He glanced behind him, but the graveyard was empty. He was completely alone. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admitted, panting harshly as if each word was a struggle. “Am I supposed to be dead with you? Why didn’t you give me any fucking orders? Why didn’t you leave instructions? Just… fucking why, Jim?”

He licked his lips and growled. Angry. Afraid. 

“Soon as I know you’re really dead, I’m going to take a load of pills. Because I’m not an idiot. I know I’m losing it. I know the signs aren’t really signs. I know they’ve got to be in my head. I know that. I do.” 

“And I sort of get it now. I get what it must have been like for you every day. Seeing patterns and signs and numbers and solutions and the more you think you’ve figured out, the more you don’t understand, and there’s nobody you can turn to. There’s more puzzles to solve. It never stops. And I’m getting more and more uncertain and I’m questioning myself. And it’s a fucking mess and I’m fucking cracking up…”

Sebastian let his head fall into his hands. Part of him was glad Jim wasn’t truly there to witness his weakness. 

“I don’t know how you managed. Maybe you’ve just always been stronger than me?”

It was true, Seb thought. Jim had been the strong one, always. He’d enjoyed being babied and protected, but when push came to shove, Jim was his support. Jim could take control. He was the bravest person Sebastian knew. 

Had known.

“I know you always said there’s nothing after we die, but I’m gonna pretend there is. I want us to be together again. And I swear, Jim, I swear on Aaron’s life, I’ll never leave you again. Never by choice. Not in a million years. Not for anything.”

He stood still for a long moment, silent and stoic. He nodded at the mound of raised earth and the wooden cross that bore Jim’s name. It was unworthy of the words ‘James Moriarty.’

Seb sniffed in the London pollution, the exhaust fumes and damp earth, listened to the traffic rushing by. Saw the rubbish blowing across the poor excuse for a graveyard, saw the broken glass in the corner, the graffiti on some of the other graves. 

Jim’s final resting place. It wasn’t right. It was so wrong that Sebastian wanted to die.

Sebastian gritted his teeth again, then adopted military posture. He saluted, a sign of respect, did an about turn, and then marched away, properly this time, with determination, back through the graveyard, not once looking back.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“Were you happy with the ceremony?” the vicar asked softly, hands clasped in front of him, as Sebastian rejoined the mourning party, looking noticeably unwell.

Seb sniffed. 

“Yeah.” 

The man hummed to himself pleasantly. “He seemed like quite a character.” 

“He was,” Seb grunted. “Not religious, though. Not really.”

He felt that was important to say. Because otherwise this was all a massive lie, wasn’t it? 

“Really?” the vicar asked with surprise.

“Yeah.” 

The vicar frowned and peered at Sebastian curiously with his tiny eyes. 

“But he asked for that specific passage to be read. Mark: sixteen. The instructions were very clear.” 

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. 

“What are you on about?” 

“He left instructions saying that he’d like the passage about the resurrection of Jesus Christ to be read out. Just in case of his death. Very forward thinking. Most likely he thought it would bring his loved ones hope beyond his passing. A selfless act. And a lovely selection. Not one I read often in ceremonies such as this.” 

The resurrection of Jesus Christ. The stone rolling away to reveal the body was gone. No evidence. 

No evidence because Jesus was no longer there. Jesus was alive. 

Mary Magdalene, the most faithful, saw Christ once again. The disciples saw him too. He appeared to them all but he wasn’t a ghost. He cheated death. He came back. 

He came back. 

Seb felt another strong urge to be sick. He swallowed it down and forced himself to nod, not wanting to alarm the vicar or draw attention to himself, despite the fact his legs were shaking.

He took several deep breaths, felt the room spinning beneath his feet, and then turned to see Verity and Raj engaged in stilted conversation across the room. He approached them, dizzy with confusion and grief and hope.

“Jim left instructions,” Sebastian said straight away, stopping beside Raj and Verity, interrupting them. “Why did he leave instructions? This wasn’t a suicide. He got murdered.” 

Verity licked her lips and frowned, seeming concerned by Sebastian’s tone. 

“Lots of people leave measures just in case. I think, perhaps, Jim imagined he might hurt himself in the future. He displayed a lot of suicidal behaviour while you were away. I suppose he thought it was possible he might disappear while you were gone."

Sebastian gritted his teeth. He didn’t want a lecture from Verity. He was about to tell her so, when she suddenly gasped as though she’d just remembered something. 

She reached for her large, black handbag and pulled out a book. She held it out to Sebastian. 

“This is for you,” she said. “It was under the pillow of your old bed. Jim was reading it on the evening of his death.”

Sebastian accepted the item eagerly. But the book was nothing special. It was one of his own. Nothing new at all. He felt his shoulders slump with disappointment. 

“Book’s mine anyway,” Seb mumbled, running his fingers down the spine of the old edition of Romeo and Juliet. It had been a gift, on one of Jim’s good days. A gift for being handsome, Jim had said with a smirk.

“Well, it was with his instructions, and it has a message written on the inside cover,” Verity explained. “I think Jim wanted you to have it.” 

Seb immediately opened the book to scan the first page. He was livid that Verity had read his message before him. 

But again, it was nothing. 

‘For Sebastian,’ was all it said. Not even a kiss. Not even Jim’s signature. 

“Don’t understand,” Seb mumbled to himself. 

Romeo and Juliet was one of his least favourite Shakespeare plays. He and Jim had always had a laugh at Romeo’s expense. Juliet had been Jim’s favourite character, Mercutio Sebastian’s.

“I think it might have been some sort of act of love,” Verity suggested, earning herself a vicious glare from Sebastian. “Seeing as it’s one of the greatest love stories ever written.”

Fucking love story, Sebastian inwardly fumed. He’d always thought of it more as a moral tale about warring families. Privately, he related the struggle of Romeo and Juliet, to that of his and Jim’s, being a same-sex couple, and all the backlash they got from society because of it. All the people that had wanted to tear them apart.

But he wasn’t about to explain that to Verity, or even Raj, who was looking concerned by his lack of response.

He stalked off with his book clutched to his chest. He needed his space.

On the way out of the hall, he passed Dawn and Aaron. Aaron had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms, and Dawn was rocking him gently, tears in her eyes. Seb appreciated that. That someone else was hurting like he was. Even if it was painful to see Dawn cry.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

He accepted dinner that night. It was nothing special, just chicken and chips, but it seemed to put Raj and Dawn at ease. They’d been worried about his lack of appetite. 

After a shower and changing back into his casual clothes, a pair of jogging bottoms and a grey t-shirt, Seb said goodnight and went to bed. It was still early, but he didn’t feel like chatting. There was too much to think about. Too much to take in.

He picked up his copy of Romeo and Juliet and traced his finger over the place where Jim had scrawled the two words. Apparently the only words he had to offer him.

For Sebastian. 

‘Two households, both alike in dignity,  
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,  
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.  
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes  
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;  
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows  
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.  
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,  
And the continuance of their parents' rage,  
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,  
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;  
The which if you with patient ears attend,  
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.’

He already knew it off by heart. He’d studied it at school, over and over. Learned the quotes, examined the style, made his own interpretations of the text.

Seb flicked through the pages one by one, feeling an odd sense of calm as his eyes traced over Shakespeare’s beautiful words. He’d been in love with The Bard’s writing since he’d first encountered it, even when it came to Romeo and Juliet, a play that he didn’t particularly like.

And then one of the pages was lightly folded inwards at the top corner. Act Five Scene Three. There was the lightest pencil mark beside Friar Lawrence’s speech after the death of the young lovers.

‘I will be brief, for my short date of breath  
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.  
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;  
And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife:  
I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day  
Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death  
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city,  
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.  
You, to remove that siege of grief from her,  
Betroth'd and would have married her perforce  
To County Paris: then comes she to me,  
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean  
To rid her from this second marriage,  
Or in my cell there would she kill herself.  
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,  
A sleeping potion; which so took effect  
As I intended, for it wrought on her  
The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,  
That he should hither come as this dire night,  
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,  
Being the time the potion's force should cease.  
But he which bore my letter, Friar John,  
Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight  
Return'd my letter back. Then all alone  
At the prefixed hour of her waking,  
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;  
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,  
Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:  
But when I came, some minute ere the time  
Of her awaking, here untimely lay  
The noble Paris and true Romeo dead.  
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,  
And bear this work of heaven with patience:  
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;  
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,  
But, as it seems, did violence on herself.  
All this I know; and to the marriage  
Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this  
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life  
Be sacrificed, some hour before his time,  
Unto the rigour of severest law.’

Sebastian’s jaw dropped as he remembered a conversation he’d had with Jim, mere months before he’d left to join the army.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

“That Romeo’s a bit of an idiot, isn’t he, darling?” Jim had drawled one night as they lay in bed together. Seb had been reading Romeo and Juliet out loud to help himself learn certain passages for his English Literature A-level.

“In love.” 

“Hm, same thing, I suppose,” Jim had agreed. “But he really ought to have waited a bit before ruining Juliet’s plan.”

“Can’t blame him,” Seb had mumbled, kissing Jim’s forehead tenderly. 

Jim sighed contently and snuggled closer, trying to get a look at the text and frowning at it. He’d never appreciated the creative liberties Shakespeare took. He preferred things simple and to the point.

“She’d gone to all that trouble, and he spoiled the whole thing.” 

“Bit harsh,” Seb said with a smile. 

“If he was intelligent, he would have waited before making such a rash and pointless decision,” Jim had insisted, sounding personally offended by Romeo’s actions. 

Seb had been tired at the time, not really listening. It was late and he was exhausted. He’d settled and stroked Jim’s back as he started to doze off, placing the book down on the floor beside the bed.

“Now, Juliet was clever,” Jim mused quietly, in a tone of almost-respect. He’d displayed the same emotion for Lady Macbeth and Iago. “Such a shame her oaf of a boyfriend couldn’t use his brain.” 

“Yeah, big shame,” Seb had agreed with a yawn. He was almost asleep. 

“Sometimes, people should stop using their hearts, and start using their heads instead.”

“Yeah,” Seb mumbled. 

“Both dead and all because Romeo couldn’t use some basic critical thinking. That’s the real tragedy of the play, Sebastian. You should write about that in your exam.” 

“I’ll quote you on it,” Seb mumbled sarcastically. 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake sleep, ‘Bastian.” 

“Cheers, Jim. Night.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Was it a gesture of love, like Verity had said, or was it something more? Was it another message? Was Jim trying to tell him he was still alive? Just the same way that Juliet had been.

He spent the evening reading the passage over and over, trying to find more information, even though he knew he’d get nowhere. 

Eventually he fell asleep against his pillow, book resting on his broad chest. 

When he woke it was the middle of the night, and he could feel a sharp, searing pain in his cheek. He lifted a hand to his face and felt a trace of blood. There was a new cut there. 

Swearing under his breath and looking for the source of the cut, he sat up in bed and lifted his duvet. His pillow had shifted in the night, and there was the corner of something brown sticking out of it. 

Reaching out to grab the brown envelope that had given him a paper cut, with sweating hands, Sebastian tore it open. How long had it been under his pillow for? 

It was a typed document, official and dull. 

A pathology report from the autopsy.

Jim’s pathology report. A copy of the document that had been sent to the coroner.

Sebastian read it. 

Caucasian male of seventeen years old, beaten to death, blood type B-, DNA match for James Moriarty. 

So he was dead. He was. The DNA proved it. The boy in the coffin, the boy Sebastian had seen buried had been Jim. 

He read it again, grimacing and feeling nauseous as he read the physical description of the state of the body.

Dark hair, brown eyes, slender build, face collapsed due to trauma, hit with a blunt object, bones shattered and brain damage inflicted instantly. Scars from self harm on the inner arms, notably the right, and free of pubic or any other bodily hair. 

It was a detailed description. A painful one.

But there was a piece missing. 

There was no record of the self harm scars on Jim’s thighs. They had been prominent, just as deep as the ones on his forearms. 

Which was suspicious. Wasn’t it? Surely a pathologist would notice something like that? The marks couldn’t have faded that quickly. The ones that had marred Jim’s inner arms were on the list. That lacerated ladder of ghostly white and pink scars on Jim’s pale skin. Most were stretched from forearm to fist on his right arm. He usually inflicted the wounds with his left hand. Seb had seen him do it.

But people knew about those. Jim’s therapists. The hospital. Verity. Dawn. The kids that had witnessed Jim’s long-sleeved shirts roll up by accident to reveal the scarring. 

Sebastian was the only one who knew about the scars below Jim’s waistline. The only person in the world.

Seb remembered every scar. Especially the ones Jim kept hidden from the world beneath his trousers. Twelve deep ones that were going to remain with Jim for years, possibly forever. Another collection of more superficial marks, born in frustration and fury and desperate mania. 

Seb had tenderly traced the crease of Jim’s legs where they met his torso, and brushed his lips over a couple of the largest marks that marred Jim’s otherwise perfect flesh. Jim’s skin had been so smooth, apart from those scars. Unnaturally so. He’d moisturised, or so he’d told Sebastian haughtily, and shaved his legs every other day. 

Seb had liked the way they felt after Jim shaved them, silky and soft against his lips.

They were so opposite. Or had been.

Jim had been neat and refined and smooth and sophisticated. Camp sometimes. But tastefully so.

Seb had been rough and hairy (or so Jim said) and scarred all over. His hands were calloused, his nails bitten right down. A foul habit, Jim had called it.

He had massive feet whereas Jim’s had been dainty. Jim had often boasted in his exceptionally good moods that he could pick objects up with his toes. Seb remembered seeing them clench, monkey-like, around the rungs of the ladder of his bunk as he climbed up and down every morning and night. 

Seb had stubble, (at least, he had done until the military shaved it off), but Jim had decided to rid himself of any trace of his own facial hair the moment it appeared. He often said that it wasn’t professional, although Seb imagined Jim would have looked good with a light dusting of stubble. 

Jim had shaved his upcoming pubic hair off in a fit of disgusted mania. Seb remembered warning him against it, but Jim had been determined. He’d later experimented with growing it back but he didn’t like the itching. He’d complained about it constantly and Seb had to resist the urge to laugh every day as Jim squirmed and tried not to scratch himself. 

Jim’s pubic hair had been coarse and black, a stark contrast to his milky skin tone. Seb’s own were light brown. Jim liked them, though, or so he’d said. Especially the light trail that led down his muscled abdomen. He’d played with it sometimes with his deft fingers, idle and tired and peaceful after Sebastian had fucked him. 

It was one of the more mundane aspects of sex Seb had enjoyed. The aftermath. Jim sleepy and blissful and sated. Affectionate and warm and snuggly. He played with Seb’s body as though he owned it, which Seb supposed he did. 

Even when they’d been little boys, Jim had played with his fingers whenever he was stressed. He’d kissed them and prodded them and felt for the calloused parts when he was sad.

Sebastian missed that Jim. Had missed him for years. That little kid that sulked and threw tantrums and danced and giggled and snuggled up with him at night, possessive and bossy and volatile. Spiteful one moment and then adoring the next.

That little boy was long gone. But was Jim? Was his beloved boyfriend?

Someone had put the coroner’s report under his pillow. Someone had wanted him to find it. 

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” Sebastian whispered into the darkness, hugging the coroner’s report to his chest and flopping down on his back. “You bastard, you fucking bastard…” 

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a while and stared at the ceiling. After about twenty minutes, Aaron started crying from the other room. Seb sat up and listened as Dawn got out of bed and wandered down the corridor outside, yawning as Aaron squealed and made a fuss in her arms. 

Seb would have volunteered to give him his baby food or a bottle of milk to save Dawn a job, but he didn’t trust himself. His emotions weren’t in check.

He got up and reached for his leaflets again. Assembling his evidence together, in one place.

The religious leaflet that said his name. The life insurance advert. Romeo and Juliet. The reading of Jesus’s resurrection. Ashes to Ashes and the mysterious man at his military graduation. The mortuary report. 

The only one that didn’t fit the theory was the leaflet garnering votes for the local politician. 

Seb read it over and over again. Read policies about the police force and cleaning up the streets, about immigration and new job opportunities and apprenticeships for young people in need of employment. 

Nothing. Fucking nothing. 

Amir Trimjoy still stared smugly out of the black and white photograph at him, clean-cut and smarmy. In a suit and tie that looked stupidly dull, just like all the politicians wore.

Aaron stopped screaming in the other room. He must have fallen asleep. Sebastian heard Dawn carry him back into hers and Raj’s bedroom, and the flat was quiet once more.

Somewhere along the line Sebastian fell asleep again. 

In his dream, Jim was there. Gorgeous, disdainful Jim, sulky and uncooperative and frustrated. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he was glaring at Sebastian with disappointment. 

“I thought you were cleverer than this,” he announced, tutting. 

Sebastian reached out for him, but Jim sashayed out of his grasp and raised a sharp eyebrow. 

“I leave you plenty of clues, the most simple in the world, and you still insist on being stupid. I’m appalled.” 

Seb opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. 

“What do I enjoy, Sebastian? Hm? Patterns. Patterns and codes and unscrambling things. Word play. Are we getting warmer?” 

No, Seb wanted to say. I don’t fucking understand. What the fuck’s going on? But no sound came out of his mouth, and Jim wouldn’t go to him. Whenever Seb tried to move, his body froze, paralysed. Jim was just out of the reach of his fingertips. If only he could move one more inch he could touch him again. 

“Oh, Sebastian,” he drawled, suddenly chuckling. “I thought this one would be a piece of cake, Mr Shakespeare. All that verbal reasoning with your Eleven Plus. All those crossword puzzles. I’m disappointed. You’re getting slooooooooow…” 

And then he was gone. 

Sebastian opened his blue eyes and woke up. 

Sunlight streamed into the bedroom through the thin curtains, making his eyes sting. 

It was simple, now. Word play. 

He grabbed a biro from the side, grabbed the brown envelope that the coroner’s report had been in, and scribbled a heading. 'Word Play For Jim.' 

“Patterns and codes and unscrambling,” Sebastian mumbled to himself. That’s what the ghostly Jim in his dream had said. 

He picked up Amir Trimjoy’s propaganda for what had to be the hundredth time, only this time he started to scribble down the name, letters in a circle to make things easier. 

Amir Trimjoy. Amir Trimjoy. Amir Trimjoy. 

If anyone had been there to see Sebastian, they might have noticed that his own natural mannerisms had fallen by the wayside. That his eyes had sharpened, that his eyebrows had raised, that he was muttering under his breath. He was acting like the late James Moriarty. 

Patterns and codes and unscrambling... 

Amir Trimjoy, Amir Trimjoy... 

Jim Moriarty. 

Sebastian stared at the envelope with mixed elation, hope, shock, and disbelief. His hands were trembling.

"Fuck," he breathed out. 

Jim was alive.


	93. Military Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian settles in to military life but finds himself receiving some odd mail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: I apologise for the delay with this chapter. Life got messy for me. We’re still not at the end, but we are close. I promise I’ll give you warning when we get there. I won’t just stop posting.  
> Also, it’s Jim’s birthday!

Sebastian received the package one day after his first official kill in Bosnia. The lads had clamoured around, eager to find out what Rifleman Moran had been sent and who from. Seb grinned at them, but shook them off, wanting to open it in private. Just in case.

It was a cassette tape. No message. No letter. No anything. It wasn’t even labelled. 

Which meant it had to be from Jim. Didn’t it? 

Seb had to wait two whole days until he could use the tape player they kept at base, along with a pool table, some work-out equipment and the usual books and magazines. Even then he couldn’t listen to it alone. The base was never empty, and there was no chance of him sneaking out of bed to take a listen. The consequences of being caught up could cost him his position, and Sebastian wasn’t willing to risk his new career. He loved it. More than he’d ever imagined he could.

Only three blokes sat in the room with him. Two were playing cards. They asked Seb to join them, but he usually declined. He preferred his own space to read or think or write. Mostly he wrote about Jim, he wrote theories and messages and sometimes even paragraphs in his voice. The Jim in his head wrote those, but they were so lifelike, Seb could almost believe they were real. He always wrote them with his left hand. Felt more authentic that way. He thought he’d managed to replicate Jim’s spidery scrawl, but maybe that was in his mind.

“What’ve you got there, Seb?” George asked. He was examining his sock and poking at his toes while sprawling on the main sofa. 

“Nothing much,” Seb answered, sniffing. He tried not to let his excitement show on his face. Play it cool, Moran, he told himself. Or was it Jim that told him that? “What’ve you done to your foot?” 

George, who wasn’t the brightest of sparks, pointed at his big toe. “Tore off the nail yesterday. Proper nasty, it was. It’s all bandaged up, but it stings like a bitch. Sock keeps catching on it.” 

“Nasty,” Seb agreed seriously, edging over to the tape player. He licked his lips and placed the tape in the compartment, turning the volume right down and closing it. 

He dragged a chair over, so he could sit directly beside the tape player, and pressed play. 

It was a song, not a message in Jim’s Irish accent. Tinkling music with clockwork sound effects. He recognised the tune but he couldn’t place it. Jim had played it to him before, he knew that much. Back in the office. Although he’d obviously been distracted at the time, which meant Jim had been straddling him or kissing him or attempting to suck him off.

‘B.F.P.O…’ 

Kate fucking Bush, Seb realised. Jim had always liked her. 

Topical too, Seb thought. Fucking B.F.P.O. British Forces Post Office. He’d never listened to the lyrics before, but this time he leaned in close to the tape player and frowned as he made out each word.

‘Our little army boy,  
Is coming home from B.F.P.O,  
I’ve a bunch of purple flowers  
To decorate a mammy’s hero.’

Sebastian grimaced. Typical Jim, trying to make him feel guilty. Mocking him, even now. Even after his first official military kill. Jim should have been proud. He should have been happy. It had been for him, that kill. Sebastian had thought of him as he’d pulled the trigger. Every kill was for Jim. Past and future. Every single one.

‘Mourning in the aerodrome,  
The weather warmer, he is colder.  
Four men in uniform  
To carry home my little soldier.’ 

Well, he wasn’t going to die, so Jim could stop with the fucking mind games, Seb thought grumpily. Some of the others might go home in body bags, but Seb was going to stick it out. He was better than the lot of them. Why couldn’t Jim see that? 

‘"What could he do?  
Should have been a rock star."  
But he didn't have the money for a guitar.  
"What could he do?  
Should have been a politician."  
But he never had a proper education.  
"What could he do?  
Should have been a father."  
But he never even made it to his twenties.  
What a waste,  
Army dreamers.  
Ooh, what a waste of all the  
Army dreamers.’

Sebastian stood up and kicked his chair across the room, shocking the other lads nearby. They already knew about Rifleman’s Moran’s infamous temper, but he didn’t often kick off during their free time. Usually he just sat by himself with a book or did some training. 

“You alright, mate?” Barry asked, putting down his cards. 

Samuel licked his lips nervously and glanced at the chair Seb had kicked halfway across the room. He almost went to retrieve it, but hesitated, not wanting to draw Moran’s fire.

“It’s to do with the tape,” George piped up, still fiddling with his toe. He was closer to Sebastian than most, since they’d shared a room for a while now. “He got a letter from home, didn’t you, Seb?” 

Sebastian grunted and nodded his head. He flexed his fingers and settled to listen to the next part of the song. If Jim wanted him to listen, then he would. Even if it made him want to shoot someone.

‘Tears o'er a tin box.  
Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know,  
Like a chicken with a fox,  
He couldn't win the war with ego.’

Ego? Fucking ego? Seb hadn’t gone to war selfishly. He’d gone to help them both and to serve his country. He cracked his knuckles and snarled, expression fixed and grim. 

The other soldiers took that as their cue to leave him well alone. You didn’t want to bother Rifleman Moran when he was riled up.

‘Give the kid the pick of pips,  
And give him all your stripes and ribbons.  
Now he's sitting in his hole,  
He might as well have buttons and bows.’

It was the last straw for Sebastian. He punched the wall behind the tape player and felt the skin scrape away from his knuckles, leaving them bloody and sore. 

He could hear Kate Bush warbling on in her sickening little voice, wailing like a fucking ghost. Seb wanted to turn it off, but he had to wait until the end. Just in case there was a message. Just in case he had a chance of hearing Jim’s voice. In case he had orders or instructions. 

And in his mind it was Jim saying those words. Singing them in that infuriating way he did. Taking the piss. Sashaying towards him with a disdainful eyebrow raised. 

“Tut, tut, darling. Tut tut…” 

He’d dream about it that night, he knew he would. Of Jim singing that fucking song. Of clockwork and wailing women and death. Getting sent home from Bosnia in a box.

“Seb? You’re looking peaky, mate,” Barry said nervously. 

Seb shook himself out of his stupor and forced a crooked grin. The lads gave a collective sigh of relief. It meant nobody was getting a black eye that evening.

“You know what it’s like,” Seb mumbled, as the tape clicked to a stop. Jim had nothing else to say. No other words. No affection. No love. Just some stupid fucking pop song that meant nothing. “Getting shit from home. Messes with your head.” 

“I know what you mean,” George agreed. “I got a picture from my kid the other day. I showed you, didn’t I?” 

George had showed everyone, some of them twice. His three year old daughter, Mels, was the light of his life, and he talked about her constantly. 

“Yeah, it was great,” Seb said, giving another smile, retrieving his tape, then slinking off, back to his bunk. He needed his bed. Needed time to think. 

He knew Jim was alive. Jim knew he knew. And still fucking nothing. No summons. No comfort. No explanation.

“I love you, you fucking bastard,” Seb muttered to himself as he plonked himself down on his bed. “Fucking Kate Bush? That’s all you’ve got to say to me? It’s a fucking pisstake, Jim. Fucking joke…”

So now they were communicating through song, were they? In some twisted one way musical conversation? Well, Jim had always felt that music was important. 

“You know, sweetheart, the Bee Gees understand,” Jim had once told Sebastian in one of his more solemn moods. He’d poked Sebastian on the nose and perched on his lap. 

“Yeah, they understand how to sing like fucking Punch and Judy,” Seb had said sarcastically. 

“So ludicrous that it’s quite beautiful,” Jim had continued regardless. “Little disco numbers, wrapped around the truth of life.” 

Seb had shrugged his shoulders and inwardly decided Jim was probably having one of his moments and to leave him to it. 

Then Jim had leaned in and unexpectedly kissed him, surprisingly softly. “You don’t know what it’s like,” Jim had whispered. “Baby, you don’t know what it’s like. To love somebody, to love somebody, the way I love you…”

Seb recognised those as Bee Gees lyrics, but he couldn’t place the exact song.

“Think I do, as a matter of fact,” Seb had answered with a smile. 

Then Jim had pecked him on the tip of his nose and held him tightly.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

It was months before the next message came. A plain brown envelope with nothing to distinguish it from any of the other letters that arrived for the troops. Seb took it back to his bunk and waited until the room was empty before opening it. 

He’d been expecting another tape, but this time it was one of Jim’s more creative endeavours on a piece of black card. 

Two black and white images were connected by a red biro line from forehead to forehead. There was a tiny heart coloured in between them. Jim had done it personally, Seb knew, because the heart was symmetrical and directly in the centre of the line. 

He recognised the first picture stuck onto the black card. William Shakespeare. Which Seb supposed was meant to represent him.

The second one was a bloke Sebastian had never seen before. It was a photograph, not a painting. 

He covered half of the card with his hand, obscuring Shakespeare, and showed it tentatively to the lads back in the main living area. 

“Any idea who he is?” Seb asked, trying to look nonchalant and lightly amused, like this was some joke he was part of.

They crowded round to get a look at it. 

“Yeah, that’s Houdini,” said James the Fourth. They called him that because there were six blokes called James staying at their base. He was Scottish, and his accent had been hard to understand at first. They were all used to it now, though. “Learned about him back at school. Clever bastard, he was. Hungarian. He could get himself out of handcuffs, prisons, straight-jackets. You name it.”

Harry Houdini. 

Seb resisted the urge to grin. 

The famous escape artist. A real-life magician, only he used tricks. Tricks nobody could ever solve. Smoke and mirrors. Defying death.

Sebastian chuckled to himself lowly. He understood the message now. For Jim, it passed as almost romantic. Which meant Jim still loved him.

Shakespeare, his representative, linked to Houdini, Jim’s representative. Seb thought it was sweet, in Jim’s own personal way. And thankfully not conspicuous enough to merit too much attention just in case it fell into the wrong hands. 

He had to tuck the piece of black card away, so the other soldiers wouldn’t see it. They’d take the piss if they caught a glimpse of the full image, not to mention they’d start getting suspicious about his sexuality. This lot wouldn’t take kindly to that sort of thing, Seb suspected, and he wasn’t keen to put himself in the firing line. Not at base. There were enough people that wanted to kill him as it was, without it coming from his own colleagues.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

On Valentine’s Day, Sebastian received a single red rose with the thorns still on it. It made him bleed, but he didn’t mind. He thought that was probably the point of it. 

That night he pulled out his penknife and carved Jim’s initials back into his hip, determined to keep the marks fresh. If he did end up dead for some reason, which he wouldn’t, he wanted it to be with Jim’s mark of ownership on him.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The next arrival came months later. It was a piece of plain white paper with a lipstick mark on it. The colour was dark red, blood red, deep and dangerous. 

Seb grinned and kissed the marks in the privacy of his bunk. Jim’s lips had been there not long ago. It was the closest to a kiss he’d had in almost a year. And it meant Jim was still watching. 

He imagined Jim putting on the lipstick that night, probably smirking as he applied it. Then he thought of Jim’s perfect lips. Pink, usually wet from where his tongue kept darting out to lick at them, a habit of his. 

He remembered how soft they were, how gentle Jim could be when he kissed him in the night. He remembered that they had sucked bruises onto his skin too, those lips. And wrapped around his cock.

That night he dreamed of Jim. When he woke, at five in the morning, his chest ached with regret at being dragged from his slumber. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

A year passed. Sebastian received numerous tapes with choice songs on. Odd cuttings from newspapers. Strange items that would mean nothing to anyone else, but everything to him; individual toy soldiers, the knight and king chess pieces, a piece of the gum Jim used to chew and Seb enjoyed tasting on his breath, Colonel Mustard and Professor Plum cards from the Cluedo set (stapled together), some strands of Jim’s dark hair tied up with blue ribbon.

Over his first year in active service, Sebastian pushed himself harder than he’d thought himself capable of working. He threw himself into his missions, spent his free time improving his skills, and made sure to beat every single other man in his regiment. He wanted to make it to the top. He needed proof that he was good enough. 

Without Jim to reassure him, he found he missed being praised. And his personality meant he needed to be told he was doing well. He needed validation. Needed to be pushed harder and harder and harder. He set himself more and more challenges, never went easy on himself. Sebastian woke up an hour earlier than the others so he could train. He went to bed later. Eating became a task, a way to keep his body functioning, rather than something he found pleasure in. Everything was mechanical, a means to an end. 

Seb found pleasure in nothing but killing and his advancement up the ranks now. Not without Jim.

Jim continued to communicate through song. Along with an expensive cassette Walkman, Sebastian received regular tapes, unmarked and only playing single songs. They would always scream of Jim. The lyrics were chosen especially. 

Sometimes they were mockeries, and Seb could receive camp disco tunes or cheesy pop that made him grimace with embarrassment. Other times they represented Jim’s black moods, usually with mournful classical music, the sort that Jim had always enjoyed.

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was one of the more worrying arrivals. As he lay back on his bunk and stuck in his earphones, Sebastian could imagine Jim in one of his more depressed states, sitting alone in the darkness, staring blankly out into the nothingness, with nobody there to comfort him. 

If he’d only give Seb an address, he’d have been able to respond. He’d have written massive letters, sent photographs of himself in uniform and with the lads, like the others sent to their families. He’d be able to at least know that Jim was okay. 

But as it was, Seb wasn’t even certain Jim was in contact with him. It seemed like Jim, seemed like the sort of thing he’d do. But there was no way of being completely sure. No concrete proof that the person sending him little trinkets was his boyfriend. None at all. 

Nobody else would bother, though, Seb thought to himself. It wasn’t like there was another human alive that would communicate those same messages to him in that same way. Dawn and Raj wrote and sent photographs, but they didn’t do it anonymously. And Seb hadn’t ever known anyone that appreciated camp disco tunes the way Jim did. 

But the grave and the funeral had shaken Sebastian to his core. His grip on reality was often tenuous, and some days, as he waited out in the rain or the wind, camouflaged, on his stomach with his sniper rifle positioned ready for the kill, he’d wonder if perhaps he’d cracked up ages back. If maybe Jim was dead and gone and his subconscious was telling him otherwise. 

“I’m alive, stupid Sebby,” said the voice in Seb’s head, the lilting Irish one that provided an almost constant commentary on his life. “Who do you think is sending you those lovely musical numbers, hm? It screams of little old me, sweetheart. Don’t doubt yourself.”

But that wasn’t Jim. It was his own ghostly version of Jim, haunting his brain. Dead or not, Jim was more like a spirit to him now. A guiding force. A form of religion and faith. He was Sebastian’s curse and his salvation. He’d be the death of him too. One day.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

A second year passed. 

More kills were added to his list. Plenty more operations. 

The others were scared of him now. He couldn’t understand why. He was obedient, he was reliable, he was fearless, entirely bereft of guilt or remorse after a kill. He was the perfect soldier. 

He resented their distrust of him. Resented the way they looked at him sometimes, like they were afraid of something they saw.

But despite this, Sebastian continued to enjoy his time in the army. He continued to impress his superiors. He was also, unknowingly, on the way to being fast-tracked up the ranks yet again. 

The majors, the corporals, the officers, couldn’t believe that here was a boy of only twenty years old, yet with the skills of a man far older and with more experience. After only two decades of life, he was the best shot in living memory, and one of the most dedicated soldiers they had ever taken into conflict. He was a credit to his late father, and a real diamond in the rough. 

Only one major had concerns about Sebastian Moran’s capacity for complete detachment when in the field. He argued that a man so able to divorce himself from empathy and morality was a danger and should be watched. But he was quickly overruled.

After all, Rifleman Moran was the chance of a lifetime. He could be the best of the best, not only in Britain, but in Europe too. Perhaps even further out. And they weren’t about to turn away an asset of that scale.

The senior officers observed that was popular enough in theory, despite the way the other lads glanced at him sometimes, with something akin to fear. Although not particularly talkative, he was definitely respected, in a quiet sort of way. The lads would part for him when he walked into the canteen, or ask him to join their card games. But Moran preferred not to make friendships.  
To be the best he could be, Sebastian knew he had to put himself first. He couldn’t allow himself to become distracted. Getting the job done was all that mattered.

And Jim. Of course Jim. Always Jim.

The next tape arrived just before Sebastian was being taken out of Bosnia. He was to have some time off before he was deployed to Germany. Apparently there were some snipers out there that wanted to tutor him, to teach him one-on-one. Seb was looking forward to it. He’d always liked Germany. It was his sort of place. Much more than Bosnia had been. And he wanted the specialist skills and tutoring the German snipers could provide him with.

The lads were used to Sebastian receiving odd tapes by now. Seb told them they were jokes from his sister, and most of them bought the story. They wouldn’t have dared to say anything anyway, even if they did think it was strange. Sebastian wasn’t the sort of man you wanted to cross. Not if you wanted to go home in one piece. 

Rifleman Moran was your best friend in the field of battle, always had your back when it came to conflict, but beyond that, you couldn’t expect anything from him. He was still a mystery and kept his cards very close to his chest. There was something unsettling about him. He was a bit unbalanced, the lads often muttered to each other. His single-minded determination when he had orders was great if you needed something doing, but there was something wrong with his level of intensity, with his detachment from the lot of them, his reluctance to socialise. He always won at cards, and most people thought he probably cheated, and yet he never had a bad word to say about anyone. It was like he wasn’t human, more of a machine. Some sort of tin soldier that never laughed with honest eyes and never once seemed happy.

Never fucked anyone, either. Never talked about women. Which was making them increasingly suspicious of him.

Seb put the tape into his Walkman and closed his eyes.

The song was ‘Gold’, by Spandau Ballet. He knew it already. Liked it, too. 

‘Thank you for coming home,  
I'm sorry that the chairs are all worn,  
I left them here I could have sworn.

These are my salad days,  
Slowly being eaten away,  
Just another play for today,  
Oh but I'm proud of you, but I'm proud of you.’

Sebastian’s heart leapt. Jim was proud. It was the first time he’d even hinted at it. In the dark hours of the night, Sebastian feared that Jim was disappointed. Disappointing Jim was one of the worst things in Sebastian’s world. But this was proof, wasn’t it? That Jim approved.

‘Nothing left to make me feel small  
Luck has left me standing so tall.’

So that meant things were going well with Jim, didn’t it? Nothing left to make him feel small. Sounded positive, although Jim had never believed in luck. 

“A man makes his own luck, Sebby,” he’d once told him, although he’d only been a kid at the time.

Either way, Jim was feeling optimistic about his current state of affairs.

Or was he looking too far into it? Was it just some chirpy song Jim liked the sound of and wanted to share with him? 

Thing was, there was no way of knowing. He was trapped overanalysing everything, every word, every detail. His mind was never at peace. This was his only contact with Jim, and it meant too much to him to simply blot out. New meanings came to him all the time. He found himself muttering the lyrics of the songs Jim sent him under his breath whenever he had a spare moment. Sometimes they played in his head, background noise as he went on drills, even as his finger pressed down on the trigger of his gun. 

‘Gold.  
Always believe in your soul,  
You've got the power to know,  
You're indestructible,  
Always believe in, because you are  
Gold.  
Glad that you're bound to return,  
There's something I could have learned,  
You're indestructible, always believing.’

Seb knew that chorus already. It was always on the radio. But it didn’t seem significant. Not apart from the bound to return bit. He kept listening. 

‘After the rush has gone,  
I hope you find a little more time,  
Remember we were partners in crime.’ 

Partners in crime. As if he could forget. Sebastian dreamed about it often, about them as kids, getting up to all sorts of mischief. Some of it the usual stuff; putting cold beans in Frank’s shoes, planting worms in Verity’s handbag. Some of it far more unsavoury. Poisoning Toby right at the start. Having Graham sent away for it. Murdering eleven year old Carl Powers when they were only kids themselves. 

It sometimes seemed like a different life, like something that had happened to a different person. Because Sebastian’s existence now consisted of bullets and drills and shouting and waiting and getting up at five in the morning ready for duty.

It was made of freezing cold showers and standing in lines and training until his body ached. 

‘It's only two years ago,  
The man with the suit and the face,  
You knew that he was there on the case,  
Now he's in love with you, he's in love with you.  
My love is like a high prison wall,  
But you could leave me standing so tall.’

That was the verse Jim wanted him to hear. Seb was sure of it. 

Two years ago. Love as a high prison wall. Sebastian liked that imagery. Jim had probably only chosen it because he liked the link with crime and illegal activity, but Seb thought of their own barriers. Jim’s reluctance to trust and his mental illness. His own anger and society’s twisted messages. Their entire life was a fucking prison, wasn’t it? Them trying to slip through the bars together. Jim wanting to escape the mundane, Seb needing to escape his loneliness and need for validation. 

You’re overthinking it, Moran, Seb told himself. You’re cracking up. 

But he overthought everything. He had to. Because Jim had made him paranoid. He didn’t know what was a message and what wasn’t. He didn’t know how or if Jim was watching him and he didn’t know when. His mind was consumed by thoughts of Jim, waking and sleeping. Even at the moment of a kill, Jim filled his senses. 

Finger on the cold trigger, Seb remembered Jim’s scent after sex, his smooth skin, his mewls of pleasure, his giggle, his sharp nails raking down his back, the way he bit down against Seb’s neck just to hear him growl.

By the time the bullet found its victim, Sebastian was panting. He could never tell if it was the thrill of the kill, or the remembrance of his lover. The two aspects were so enmeshed in his mind that it was impossible to separate one from the other. 

Death and Jim went hand in hand. Always.

The song ended and there was nothing more. The tape clicked shut and Sebastian rewound it, ready to listen all over again.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

At the end of his two years, on the week before his deployment to Germany, Munich, Sebastian went home. To the only home he knew. London Town. 

While the lads went back to their families or kicked back at the barracks, Sebastian took his pack and went on a quest for Jim. Two years was long enough. Too long. He was almost twenty one years old now. A different man. And Jim would be different now, too.

So he travelled to the care home. Took a couple of busses, then walked the final mile. The familiar surroundings made his stomach lurch uncomfortably. He remembered the walks he’d taken back and forth to Sophie’s house for training with Ben. He remembered Jim storming out in his teenage years and having to sprint after him to make sure he didn’t run into the road. He remembered everything. 

The care home didn’t seem to have changed. The usual graffiti had been painted over, to try and make it seem more homely, but the place still looked the same as ever. It wasn’t warm. Wasn’t friendly and inviting. It was a place to dump the kids that nobody wanted, the kids that were wrong in the head. 

For some reason that brought a bitter smile to his face. It gave him the strength to stalk up the driveway. 

He knocked on Verity’s door and took a deep breath, waiting. The wind chilled his face and left his nose and ears red, but he was immune to harsh environments by now. He barely even noticed. 

But the person that came to the door wasn’t Verity. In her place was a plump, motherly sort of lady with bobbed dyed red hair and a pug nose. Her sleeves were rolled up and her nails were painted an optimistic red to match her hair.

“What can I do for you?” she asked in a strong Devonshire accent. She smiled, although she held the door firmly, ready to shut it on him should she need to. He supposed he cut a threatening figure now, tall and grim and strong. He forgot that sometimes. Thought he was still the same Sebastian Moran he’d always been. 

A shadow passed behind the woman, and then a little girl peered out from behind her legs. Not so little as Seb remembered, actually. It was Cassie. 

“That’s Seb!” the girl exclaimed pointing at him with a grubby finger. “He’s the army boy I told you about, Miranda! You can let him in. He’s safe. He’s the one that used to hit things but then he didn’t and then he followed Jim everywhere. Jim’s the one that died.” 

Sebastian grimaced and felt his fingers twitch, although he swallowed down his pain at that statement. 

Miranda, the new head care worker, smiled more warmly now and stepped aside. She obviously recognised that name and the story attached to it.

“Come in, Sebastian,” she said kindly, gesturing down the hall. “Would you like a cup of tea? Are you on leave?” 

“Yeah,” Seb mumbled, stepping into the familiar house. It smelled more like flowers now, rather than lemon and disinfectant. The carpet had been pulled up in the entrance hall and replaced by laminate flooring. The sounds were the same, though. Two kids were yelling at each other upstairs, and the television was blaring out from the television room. 

It struck him that this place was just a pit stop really. It wasn’t a home. He didn’t feel happy to be back. He felt more lost than ever. 

He didn’t belong there now. He wondered if he ever had. 

No, Seb decided. Jim was home. He hadn’t felt right until Jim had arrived when he was ten, and now the care home felt empty and wrong, all because he wasn’t in it. Wherever Jim was, was home. He was his comfort and security. Jim was the only home Sebastian Moran had ever known.

Still, he sat down at the kitchen table and ditched his rucksack on the floor. Cassie skipped up to him and took the seat beside him. She didn’t look so much like a kid now. She’d grown taller in the years that had passed, and her face had lost it’s chubby childishness.

“How’s the army?” she asked curiously, twirling her hair around her finger. “Have you killed many people? And are there rats? At school they said there’s lice and you have to eat rats.” 

Seb grinned, although it was forced. 

“Think that’s probably back in World War One,” he explained. “We don’t have lice and I’m pretty sure they haven’t been feeding us rats. Hope so, anyway.”

Cassie laughed and Miranda settled at the table with a tea tray. She poured Sebastian a cup and handed it over to him. He took it gratefully, enjoying the warmth against his palms. 

“So, when did Verity leave?” Seb asked. 

“Last year,” Miranda explained, arranging herself comfortably on her chair. “I think she’s in Morocco now, bless her soul.” 

Seb nodded gruffly. He supposed the stress must have finally got to her.

“And Frank?” he asked, trying his best at small talk. He’d never been good at it the way Jim was when he wanted to be. 

Cassie reached out to pat Sebastian on his strong arm. “Frank’s still here,” she revealed with a shake of her head and a dramatic roll of her green eyes “But don’t worry, we can deal with him. I wish you were still here, though. And Bryony does too. We miss you.”

Seb swallowed and forced another smile. It was good to know he was missed, but he didn’t have time for this. It meant nothing. He hadn’t come here to relive the old days. He was here for answers. To find Jim. 

There had only ever been room in his life for one sulky little kid, and now he was all grown up.

“Listen,” he said suddenly, leaning forward and drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “You haven’t had any letters delivered here, have you? No tapes or anything? Addressed to me? Or blank?” 

Miranda frowned uncertainly. 

“For you?” 

“Might be. Like I said, sometimes they don’t have anything written on them.” 

Cassie glanced at Sebastian curiously and then leaned against him fondly. She was trying to act more adult than her years, Seb could see, but he didn’t shake her off for fear of hurting her feelings. 

“Letters have to have addresses on them,” she told him. “And a stamp on the top right hand corner. Otherwise they don’t send. We did letters at school.”

Sebastian nodded, and Cassie beamed. 

“You definitely haven’t had any?” he asked Miranda, who was peering at him oddly now. He couldn’t understand why she was looking at him like that, or even identify what emotion her face was expressing. It was the same one the lads at base gave him sometimes. It made him uncomfortable. The old paranoia had never really gone away.

“None at all, I’m afraid,” Miranda said with a shake of her head. She smiled sweetly, but there was pity in her eyes. “Is your tea okay, dear?” 

Seb nodded and took a swig. It burned his mouth, but that didn’t matter. If Jim hadn’t left a message for him at the home, then where would he have planted it? Surely he’d want him back now? After two long years. That was more than enough time to be angry, wasn’t it? 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

As soon as he’d managed to escape the home, and all the kids that remembered him and clamoured around, wanting to hear stories about the army, including little Bryony with her glasses, who had once witnessed he and Jim snogging in the hall and kept their secret for them (so he gave her an extra smile), he shook Frank’s hand, and Miranda’s, and headed down the path he’d often taken as a kid. The one to the local park.

As he walked he felt he could almost sense Jim’s presence beside him, sashaying along, chattering away dismissively. 

“Shame Frank’s still alive, isn’t it, darling? But, oh well. I suppose we can’t have everything we want. I’m cold. Sebastian, you need to fix it…”

Seb sat in the park, on one of the two main benches, and lit a cigarette. An old woman sat on the other one a short distance away. She looked half-dead, although she might have been thinking. Her eyes were closed and her body was slumped against the evening chill. Had Seb been younger and more public-spirited, he might have gone over and checked on her, but as it was, he left her to it, and tried to make the most of the smoke that filled his throat and lungs.

He had bigger things to think about than dead old women.

Seb thought about all the hours he and Jim had spent in this park together. Sitting on the benches, feeding the pigeons, having a laugh, Jim throwing sulks. The main wooden structure had burned down, probably set on fire by bored teenagers, but the skeleton of it remained. 

Seb had done his first ‘army training’ there. On the monkey bars, climbing the ladders, testing himself. Trying to avoid the broken glass and litter scattered all over the tarmac. 

He remembered Jim watching him from the swings as he trained. He could only have been about twelve, Jim ten. Even at that time he could see Jim’s face, plain as day, eyes rolling with disdain, frowning at his surroundings as he lightly swung back and forth.

Sebastian missed kid Jim. He thought of that little boy a lot now. He thought about the natural and almost honest way he’d smiled in the time before Stanley and his ‘work’ and other outside circumstances that Seb couldn’t control. That smile had still been incredibly scheming and mischievous, but it hadn’t been an effort. It hadn’t been fake or forced or thought out in advance. And when that little Irish boy had giggled it made his brown eyes light up with glee. Seb remembered when Jim had experienced hope. He doubted Jim would ever feel that emotion again.

The almost twenty one year old man finished his cigarette and dropped it onto the ground, stamping it out with the heel of one of his army boots. Was it time to go home? Wherever home was now. He supposed it was the barracks. 

He didn’t have the cash for a hotel. But he’d think things over and then look someplace else. Something would come to him. It had to. 

He sniffed loudly and then stood, brushing down his jeans in a gesture reminiscent of Jim. He’d never liked to be contaminated by ordinary surfaces and dirt. Jim had bathed often and sometimes demanded Seb wash his dark hair for him. Jim claimed it was easier that way, but Seb noticed the way his dark eyes closed with bliss as Seb gently washed his hair. He noticed the very quiet sighs, as well. The way Jim’s body seemed to relax. He’d loved those moments, when Jim had allowed him to care for him. 

The old woman, who Seb had assumed was asleep, suddenly started to sing under her breath in a wispy old voice.

“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when,  
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…”

It was an old Vera Lynn track. Seb knew that from his History A-level. 

Then she got to her feet as well, a little unsteadily. She mumbled something under her breath, picked up her handbag, and then shuffled away through the park in her old slippers, humming the old wartime song.

She’d left something on her bench. An envelope. 

“Excuse me?” Seb called out, stalking over to the bench, suddenly alive with hope. “Oi?” 

The envelope was addressed to ‘‘Bastian.’ 

Seb sprinted after the old woman and fell into step beside her, letter clutched in his hand. Did he have to follow her? Was that the clue? Was Jim trying to lead him somewhere? 

“This is for me,” he panted, still keeping step with her. “I’m ‘Bastian. Where am I supposed to go? What does he want with me? Is he waiting?” 

But the elderly woman refused to speak. She muttered under her breath, something indecipherable, and seemed to be trying to shake him off. 

“It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you,” Seb reassured her, licking his lips and looking around at their empty surroundings. He supposed it would look odd, some tall bloke trailing a little old woman through a dark children’s park. “This is a message for me, yeah? He sent you, didn’t he? Can you tell me what I’ve got to do?” 

Still she refused to respond. She made her way towards the nearest alleyway, where a ginger cat was stalking out of the shadows having raided the nearby bins. 

Seb stopped trying to converse with her. He set his jaw, took a deep breath, and simply followed. The envelope had been clutched in his left hand, but now he tore it open as they walked. Inside was no tape, no letter, no words of comfort or instruction. 

The envelope was empty. 

The old woman muttered and murmured as she entered the alleyway and began to shuffle into the darkness. Seb narrowed his eyes with confusion and continued to follow her. 

It was eerily silent in the alley, more so than usual. Seb didn’t scare easily, but something felt off about this whole thing. The fact the old woman was ignoring his presence was strange enough as it was, without the surroundings getting in on the act as well. 

“Listen,” Seb mumbled, not wanting to raise his voice and startle the old woman. “Can you at least tell me what’s going on? Are we going to find him? You work for him, don’t you? He’s paid you. Yeah?” 

And then there was the sound of glass shattering, a sickeningly sharp pain exploded against the side of his head, and suddenly, Sebastian was on the ground.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

He woke up in a hotel room. He knew it was a hotel room because the place smelled clean but not personal. Just of the usual linen products and fresh sheets. 

His head ached and he could feel blood dripping down his forehead. 

Seb forced his eyes open with a grimace and tried to sit up. Which was when he realised he was already sitting up. He was on a chair, tied to it. His arms were bound behind the back of the chair, and his legs were each tied to the wooden structure as well, rendering him pretty much helpless.

Directly in front of him was a desk. On it was a small television and a telephone. Nothing else. Behind him he could just about see a bed when he turned, but he couldn’t see the main door, and wouldn’t be able to without getting free or dislocating his own arms. 

“The fuck…?” he grunted, gritting his teeth.

And then the television flickered to life. 

‘Ground Control to Major Tom,  
Ground Control to Major Tom…’ 

David Bowie. The screen displayed colours, seemed to be having trouble finding a signal. The music distorted, and then Sebastian saw Jim’s smirk, only for a second, for one moment, before it flickered away again to be replaced with the pixelated screen. 

“Jim!” Seb shouted out, trying to get up and out of his chair. It didn’t work. He snarled and then let out a growl of frustration.

Then the music changed, shifted into something else. 

‘One year, two years, time goes by,  
People laugh and people cry.’ 

That was the Bee Gees. Seb could recognise them in a heartbeat. They were Jim’s favourite band.

And then there was Jim’s eye, up close, quick as a flash, with the hint of a sharp, dark eyebrow. It cut out again to display flickering purples and greens as the song crooned on. 

‘Two years on, two years on,  
But only you can see me.  
Only you can see me…’ 

Sebastian growled again as Jim’s entire face appeared. He was shaking his head and tutting. Then it was gone again. Sebastian fought against his restraints, but they cut into his arms and wrists.

‘For what I’ve got,  
Sir Lancelot was just a dream and I am not.  
For I am he with something more.  
It’s you and I reality…’ 

Sebastian’s blue eyes were watering with confusion. The screen was flickering so fast he could barely make it out. It was lighting up the darkened hotel room, casting shadows and colours on his stunned face. His head still ached from the blow that must have knocked him out, and it was an effort to keep his eyes open.

And then it stopped, and the room went deadly quiet for a long moment. The screen went completely blank, and for one sickening second, Seb thought that was all he was getting. He grimaced and gritted his teeth. 

“Hello, darling,” came that familiar Irish accent, the one Sebastian ached for and imagined. 

Seb’s head shot up. He ignored the surge of blinding pain. But the screen remained blank, the occasional flicker of static passing across it. 

“No, don’t try to respond, I’m not here. This is just a recording. It’s one I made earlier.” 

Jim chuckled, the noise reverberating hauntingly around the room. 

Then several photographs appeared on the screen in quick succession, like a slideshow. Sebastian in his army uniform, a picture of Sebastian’s bunk back at base, several images of Sebastian going about his daily life, one of him in the showers back in Bosnia, one of him eating breakfast, one of him camouflaged and camped out with his rifle, face set with determination, the moment before his first kill. 

“Don’t you fret, Jimmy’s still alive. Although you already knew that, didn’t you? Clever boy. Did you like my little riddles? All my little clues? Hm? My gifts and special trinkets?” 

More photographs of Sebastian appeared, and then some of Jim. Jim as he was now. None showing his face properly, just shadows, outlines of his body in a sharp suit, a close up photograph of the scars on his wrist, the ones on his thigh. Proof it really was him, not some imposter.

“Naughty Sebby scuttled off to war, leaving poor Jimmy all alone,” Jim said, in his storytelling voice, the one he used when he wanted to patronise Seb. “And for a while Jimmy was very, very sad. But do you know what Jimmy did, do you? Hm?” 

His face appeared on the screen. Only this time he was in sync with the words he was speaking. He was sitting in a darkened room with a single light shining on his pale face. His dark eyes were wild with mania. Seb knew at a glance he was on something. Drugs, definitely. Not the legal kind.

“I built my empire. I took my contacts and I killed everyone I didn’t need. And now I have a castle made of money and jewels and numbers, and a throne and a crown and an army of silly minions, all scared of the king’s wrathful nature.” 

Then he smirked, and Sebastian felt his heart break. He found he was panting, chest heaving against his restraints. He wanted Jim so badly. He needed him. The Jim on that television screen was a man. He was eighteen years old, and no longer held the uncertainty of an adolescent. He looked taller, more self-assured. 

He looked deranged. 

“But I have no knight to protect me,” Jim lamented, still using his mocking tones. He pouted like a child. “And I don’t even have a consort or a court jester.” 

“Where the fuck are you?!” Sebastian shouted, his voice scratchy and sore. “Jim!”

The recording paid no heed and continued to play.

“Once I had all three. My knight, my consort, my jester. All rolled together. My beautiful blond boy. Once I had the best thing in the world, but back then I was only a prince, you see. I was only an heir to all this. I was young and I was foolish, and I thought that my knight was as loyal as he swore to be on that day he bent the knee and pledged allegiance.” 

Sebastian flushed with shame. 

“But then he ran away like a coward. And now…” Jim paused for emphasis. 

“Now he’s going to pay. He’s going to pay for betraying me. He’s going to regret it for every waking moment of his miserable life. Untiiiiiiiil,” he sang. “Until he’s half mad with grief and he throws himself at the king’s feet, begging for mercy.”

And then, as quick as anything, while the tears and the blood still trickled down Sebastian’s face and started to dry, new music started to play in a twisted mockery of Jim’s own emotions. 

‘At first, I was afraid, I was petrified…’ 

‘I Will Survive’ by Gloria Gaynor. This was a fucking joke, surely? That couldn’t be the way this ended? Jim was going to turn up any second now. The song would end and he’d walk through the door, and he’d hit Seb, scream at him, but then they’d embrace and it’d all be alright again. It had to be.

‘Kept thinking, I could never live without you by my side,  
But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong,  
And I grew strong, and I learned how to get along….’

‘But now you're back from outer space,  
I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face,  
I should have changed that stupid lock,  
I should have made you leave your key,  
If I'd known for just one second you'd be back to bother me…’

And Jim, that fucking prick on the video, was dancing to the music. He looked properly and startlingly insane. And it half scared Sebastian, the way he was sashaying in a twisted mockery of interpretive and balletic dance.

‘Go on now, go! Walk out the door!  
Just turn around now  
'Cause you're not welcome anymore.  
Weren't you the one, who tried to hurt me with goodbye?   
Did you think I'd crumble?  
Did you think I'd lay down and die?’

More photographs faded into the picture. Sebastian brushing his teeth, Seb pissing on a tree in his army gear, Seb reading Shakespeare, Seb playing cards with the lads back at base, Seb carving Jim’s initials into his hip...

‘Oh, no, not I! I will survive!   
Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive.  
I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give,   
And I'll survive, I will survive, I will survive!’

It was becoming startlingly clear that Jim had been watching him all this time. Obsessively. Every moment was recorded in some way. Every expression Sebastian had allowed himself to show flickered across the television screen.

‘Only the Lord could give me strength not to fall apart  
 Though I tried hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart   
And I spent, oh, so many nights just feeling sorry for myself   
I used to cry but now I hold my head up high.’

Then Jim was back on the screen, swinging some sort of thin chain like a pendulum. It took Sebastian a moment to realise it was his dog tags. He looked down at his chest and saw they were missing. 

He’d had them earlier. Which meant this message had been recorded in the past few hours

“Jim!” Sebastian thundered, trying to fight his way out of his chair and almost overbalancing. “Fucking hell, Jim! Listen to me! I know you’re watching! Fucking hell! I fucking love you, you prick!”

But Jim wasn’t listening. Now he was wearing Sebastian’s dog tags around his neck as he danced. And then he took a deep breath and started to sing along to the track. 

‘And you see me, somebody new,  
 I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you,   
And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free,   
Well now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me!” 

“Jim, please,” Sebastian found himself mumbling as the television screen flickered and began to die with one of Jim’s trademark smirks. 

“Please, Jim. You can’t do this to me. I’m back! I’m fucking back! Jim. Jim! Jim!” 

The instrumental section played, and Jim laughed. The sound echoed out again, eerily, and then he kissed the dog tags firmly. 

Then suddenly, the song stopped, and Jim was staring out of the screen with half his face obscured by darkness. Seb could see that his eyes were bloodshot, shadowed. There seemed to be some sort of new growth beneath his right eye, and he was growing stubble above his lips.

“But let’s be serious,” Jim said sternly, clearing his throat and blinking, as though he hadn’t just danced around like a mad man and sung along to an old cheesy Gloria Gaynor track. “That’s what you’re here for, after all. Hm? You want to know how I am and what I want.” 

He licked his lips and smirked. The screen distorted, like a broken mirror, splitting Jim’s face into pieces, and then suddenly putting them back together again. 

“I want you to know what it’s like to long and long and long for someone. I want you to know those lonely nights when all you want is a kiss. I want you to know what it feels like to be betrayed by the one person you thought you could trust, my love…” 

He said ‘my love’ like it was a joke, like a mockery. It turned Sebastian’s stomach. 

“So this isn’t goodbye. Oh, no. This is your punishment. It’s what you deserve. What you’ve earned. And it will end when I decide you’ve suffered enough, and when I can find it in my heart to forgive you.” 

“Jim,” Seb mumbled, feeling tears streaking down his cheeks, unbidden. He couldn’t even wipe them away to disguise his shame.

A hissing noise alerted him that something was wrong. Sebastian tried to turn his head, but he couldn’t do it properly from his position tied to the chair. The air became thick, almost smoky, and then he started to cough, unable to catch his breath. 

“Jim!” he coughed out, grimacing at the gas he was now inhaling.

But Jim only smirked. 

“Have a pleasant sleep, darling,” he crooned softly. “You be a good boy for Daddy…”

As Sebastian lost consciousness, he was aware of another song playing through the television speakers. He recognised it. It was the same one the old woman had been humming. 

‘We’ll Meet Again’ by Vera Lynn. Played in the Second World War when the soldiers were going away to fight, leaving their families and sweethearts behind, not knowing when or if they would return.

‘We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when,  
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.  
Keep smiling through, just like you always do,  
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds, far away…’

Then the world went black once again. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When Sebastian woke up he was in bed at the barracks. His wound had been dressed and his dog tags were back around his neck, as though they’d never been taken.  


Seb sat up sharply, panting. His sudden change of setting left him disorientated and confused.

George, one of his roommates, was sitting up on his bed cutting out photographs of his daughter to stick on his noticeboard. He gave Sebastian a nervous smile as he noticed him move. 

“How did I get here?” Seb demanded, glaring across the room at George. His head felt wrong, too heavy, woozy. He smacked himself in the forehead to try and pull himself together. 

Everything hurt. It was like a hangover, but ten times worse. 

“Alright, mate?” George asked, looking concerned. “You were out in the grounds. Think you must have passed out and banged your head. Nasty cut you got there, mate, but they fixed you up. They say it’s nothing major. You been drinking, was that it? Get in a fight?” 

Seb tried to push himself to his feet, but couldn’t stay upright.

“I was back in Westminster. Went home,” he grunted out, rubbing his forehead and grimacing at the spots in his vision.

“Yeah, and then you came back,” George said with a shrug. “Some of the lads found you out there last night. Looked like you’d had a few too many. The superiors aren’t too pleased, but I say what a man does on leave is his own business. ‘Specially a lad like you. You’re too good for them to demote.”

“No, that’s not what happened,” Seb slurred, pointing vaguely at George with unnaturally unsteady hands. His hands never shook. Not even under pressure. Not these days.

“One of the lads had a look at you. Medical corps. You’re alright, mate. It’s not concussion or anything. Just drink,” George reassured him, putting down his scissors and admiring his work.

Sebastian took several deep breaths and licked his lips. They were dry and his throat was sore.

“I was in a hotel. There was this old woman-“ 

George glanced at him with mild concern. “You need to get some rest, Seb. You’re disorientated.”

“Not fucking disorientated,” Sebastian growled, fighting to his feet once again and this time managing to stagger upright.

George instantly backed down. He didn’t want to argue with Rifleman Moran. Especially not when he’d been drinking.

“If you say so, mate.” 

“Don’t call me mate!” Sebastian shouted, lashing out and knocking his alarm clock off his bedside table. It smashed into the wall and broke into pieces.

His head ached. It was only now that it started to come back to him. He’d been drugged. Of course he had been. Chemically drugged back in the hotel room. That was how they’d got him here without a fuss. Jim had drugged him and put him back where he’d come from.

And Jim was alive. He was so fucking alive and malicious and spiteful that Seb didn’t know whether to punch the air with triumph, or to rage at his boyfriend’s stubbornness. 

“Listen, I’m gonna go get Kieran,” George said quickly, already moving out of the room. There was an odd look to Sebastian, a dangerous one. He looked deranged. “You just stay put, Seb. Try to relax.”

Kieran arrived with George about five minutes later. He was a thin boy that wore thick glasses, although his arms seemed unnaturally muscular for the rest of his slender body. 

“Rifleman Moran?” he asked, with a heavy Welsh accent.

“I was in fucking Westminster,” Seb spat out, wasting no time. “Fucking Westminster.”

George and Kieran exchanged looks. Sebastian knew they’d been talking about him on their way over. 

“Westminster’s too far,” Kieran pointed out. “You couldn’t have, mate. Not in that state.”

“Hotel in Westminster,” Seb insisted. “Knocked me out. I swear to fucking god…”

The lads exchanged another look, one that Sebastian caught. It only just occurred to him that the drug in his system was making him talk rubbish. It had messed up his verbal filtering. He needed to shut up, and quickly, if he didn’t want to be carted off to hospital for psychiatric reasons. 

“Now, now,” came the voice that lived in Sebastian’s head. Jim’s. “Don’t make a scene in front of these lovely boys. You’ll only make yourself look bad. Or worse, mad. Did you ever hear of a mad sniper, hm? Would they let a man of questionable mental health use live ammunition?” 

Seb snapped back to reality. Jim was right. No, he was right. Because that voice wasn’t really Jim. It was his own version of Jim. A ghost of a living man.

He flashed a roguish grin. Kieran and George still looked uneasy.

“One too many then, yeah?” Seb laughed. “Must’ve been so fucking pissed. Can’t remember a damn thing. Jesus Christ. Head’s banging. Thought I was pretty good at holding my beers.”

That seemed to work better. The two men visibly relaxed and smiled as well.

“We’ve all been there, mate,” agreed George. “Might as well make the most of leave, really. Germany for you next. It won’t be easy over there.” 

Kieran nodded his head. “You’re not the first to do it. Gene passed out after a few too many last time. Wasn’t pretty at all.”

Seb laughed again. It sounded empty, even to his own ears.

“Listen, lads, you won’t tell Benson, will you?” Seb asked quickly, raising an eyebrow. It was a trick he’d learned from Jim. Manipulation and intimidation in one.  
The boys were scared of him, not that they’d admit it. So they both nodded their heads. 

“’Course not,” they agreed in an instant. 

After a few more quips and forced pleasantries, Kieran left, and George went with him to show some of the others the new photographs of his daughter.

Seb lay back down on his bunk and closed his eyes. He stank of sweat, and needed a shower and a change of clothes. He knew he probably looked a state. His head was pounding. 

He didn’t know where the camera was right now, or if it was even in the room with him, although he suspected Jim was watching. 

‘HE is always watching. HE is always listening. HE is vengeful. HE is loving. HE will be your salvation, your fortune, your terror, your rapture. Do not give up on HIM and HE will deliver you.’

Seb pressed his dog tags to his lips, in the same place that Jim had put his own, and then closed his eyes. He needed to sleep off whatever the hell it was Jim had done to him. 

He needed to commit Jim’s new face to memory, those crazed eyes, the grey smudges beneath them, the slightly broader shoulders and more confident frame. Because he didn’t know when he’d be able to see him again.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

One week later Sebastian was deployed to Germany to embark on his intensive sniper training program. Once in Munich, he received a bouquet of red and black roses and a single printed notecard along with them. On it was a Shakespearean quotation. From Hamlet, one of Sebastian’s favourite plays.

‘Doubt thou the stars are fire;  
Doubt that the sun doth move;  
Doubt truth to be a liar;  
But never doubt I love.

M.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song list: 
> 
>  
> 
> Army Dreamers – Kate Bush
> 
> To Love Somebody – The Bee Gees
> 
> Moonlight Sonata – Beethoven
> 
> Gold – Spandau Ballet
> 
> We’ll Meet Again – Vera Lynn
> 
> Space Oddity – David Bowie
> 
> Two Years On – The Bee Gees
> 
> I Will Survive – Gloria Gaynor


	94. Captivity: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight years and one dishonourable discharge later. Sebastian has been captured by the British Government.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence, vague mention of rape.

It was pitch black. Sebastian couldn’t see a fucking thing. His ribs were most likely broken and he’d been deprived of water for two days. His lips were dry and his throat was sore. But he’d been through far worse. Sebastian Moran didn’t crack easily. 

They’d already had him for months and he hadn’t breathed a single word. 

There was a bag over his head today, not that there was any fucking reason for it, seeing as the cell they were holding him in had no windows. Solid concrete all round with no way of turning on the single electric light from the inside.

He’d seen his living quarters before. Only briefly, in the blinding moment when they unlocked and opened the main door and light filtered into the room. In the time it took for him to adjust to his surroundings, he only had a couple of seconds to take a look around. 

The ground was covered in straw, a cheap mattress, and his own excrement. He knew it must stink, but it no longer bothered him. He’d been covered in enemy blood and guts and shit before. This was nothing in comparison. Caused his captors a bit of inconvenience when they came to grab him for his daily interrogations anyway.

Well, they called them interrogations. It was torture and manipulation, pure and simple. They’d tried bribing him with dizzying amounts of cash, tried to emotionally blackmail him, threatened bodily harm, and then carried out said threats leaving Seb black and blue and bloody. And then they took away his food. That was a fucking pisstake, Seb thought. He was always hungry now. And he’d take whatever they gave him. 

He’d have killed for a burger and chips. Killed for a lot of things, though. Killed for almost as little as that back in Germany. Before he’d decided to use his name to pick up clients. He’d spent two months almost starving, squatting in a cheap flat in Munich. He’d even considered petty crime, stuff that was beneath him. Drug dealing, sex work, blackmail. Simple cut and run jobs that meant nothing but would buy him two meals a day.

It definitely wasn’t pushing it to say that he’d have flayed every human who was part of this operation for the taste of greasy salt and vinegar chips.

But as fun as fantasising about the slow and painful future deaths of his captors was, right now, he was pathetically vulnerable and completely unarmed. Helpless as a baby.

As helpless as Aaron had been on the day they shot him in the head in the dusty alleyway in India.

They always took him to the same room. It had happened once a day at first, but then the visits came at longer intervals. Apparently there were more important people to be fucking over. 

The cold, unfriendly setting was too bright for his eyes now, since Seb had grown unused to the sharp sting of clarity. They sat him down on a metal chair that made his body ache, a man on either side of him, and then his interrogator would walk in, dressed in a suit and tie. 

Seb hadn’t seen himself in months. He knew he had a beard now, and that it had dried blood in it. He also knew that his hair had grown out. His captors liked to call him an animal, a tiger, because of his poaching past. Seb wouldn’t have minded so much, because humiliation and being treated as less than human was nothing new to him, but Tiger was Jim’s name for him. It wasn’t supposed to be some twisted mockery. 

But it was war, seedy and unrefined, and a bit of dehumanisation wasn’t uncommon. Seb had learned that from his fellow troops back in Afghanistan. 

He knew how they all saw it, saw him. A once noble wild man now stuck in a cage, clawing at the walls and growling, starving and unable to hunt. Now the joking nickname was a stick to beat him with, and damn, did it hit him in the right place.

“Not enjoying captivity, then?” 

Sebastian refused to speak. It always started like this. They knew full well he wouldn’t open his mouth to so much as growl without a hell of a lot more pressure. 

“More animal than man, Colonel, isn’t that what they say about you?” 

Seb had more nicknames than he could count. Most of them derogatory. Some of them weren’t so bad, though. Some were more to do with his exploits in the bedroom than on the field of battle. This new ‘interrogator’ hadn’t yet stooped to using the more insulting terms, and Seb was half-suspicious, half-glad. This bloke seemed above all that. He was relatively new, a lot younger than the last man had been, although stern and unyielding with no sense of humour.

“Not going to cooperate? I assure you, we have incentives.” 

Incentives meant money. They did this every time. 

“I think we can keep you nice and content, shall we say, oh, I don’t know, two hundred thousand a year? Should see that you’re comfortable.” 

Seb grinned and then spat across the table. The man grimaced and then glanced distastefully at the saliva now sitting on the sleek, grey surface. He slowly took out a handkerchief and wiped it up, before handing the used cloth to one of his two attendants. They never spoke, just stood by his sides. Usually one had a gun and one had a phone out. The same woman and man each time. The woman never once looked up at Seb, just typed away on her mobile with a click of manicured nails. The man stared ahead of him, expression blank, eyes unseeing. He was a soldier like Seb. It was obvious in his posture. So this was the sort of thing he could have been doing now if he’d agreed to sign with the government? Looked fucking dull.

He wasn’t sure why the man was armed. It wasn’t like he was in any fit state to do any damage. He’d lost too much weight, and his ribs were still recovering from the breakage. Although he scared them, he knew that much. It was satisfying to see the way they tensed as he cast his wild blue eyes upon them and grinned crookedly. He hoped his teeth weren’t going bad. They cleaned them roughly every so often with a bristled brush, as though he was a dog instead of a man. Still, Jim’s standards of hygiene had always been extreme. The moment he got out of this place he was going to buy mouthwash, toothbrush, toothpicks, dental floss and tubes and tubes of toothpaste. He’d forgotten what mint tasted like, and cigarettes. That was something else he’d kill for. A drag of nicotine. 

Lung cancer could kill him if it wanted. It was worth the reassuring heat as the smoke travelled down his throat. 

As for washing, well, they hosed him down, quite literally, every week or so. Dragged him into another room with a bag on his head and stripped him bare before dousing him with freezing water. He never complained. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. After all, he’d braved the Afghan sun for three days at a time without shelter when he was out with his rifle, hunting Taliban. He could handle a little discomfort.

“Clearly you’re not money-minded,” the man lamented mildly. “Shame. It would make this much easier. Most of your kind give in with enough cash offered to them on a platter.” 

Sebastian snarled. He knew what was coming next. 

“Which makes it seem increasingly likely that you have other plans. Perhaps less selfish in nature. To do with a certain criminal organisation?” 

He sniffed with disinterest. 

“Who did you train for?” the man asked calmly. 

Sebastian didn’t tell them that he’d always harboured an ambition to join the army. It wasn’t any of their business. If they wanted to think he’d enlisted just to make himself into a criminal then so be it. Maybe it was better than the reality. The failure of his own ambitions to be good. They’d fucking crashed and burned, any plans he’d had to make something positive of himself. Serving his country had worked up to a point. That was until he uncovered the truth of the country he was serving. The means they used to reach their ends. It was like Jim had always said. They might paint themselves as high and mighty, but deep down, underneath it all, they were just as twisted and corrupt as the rest. Even more so, because they tried to present a squeaky clean face to the world. They pretended they were better. Fucking hypocrites.

When Sebastian refused to answer, even after the question was repeated three times, two men stepped out of the shadows behind him. 

They grabbed him roughly and punched him in the face. 

Seb spat out some blood and snarled. 

“Who is it? You’ve been hunting someone down, haven’t you? Travelling across Europe. You’re on the hunt, Colonel. Who for?”

Another blow. Seb’s face was so numb from the first that he barely even felt it. He thought his teeth were still intact. At least, he hadn’t noticed any of them break just yet. That was a relief. He doubted Jim would want to see him with teeth missing.

“Is it the Russians? Is it Mashir? Molikov?” 

They’d seen Jim’s initials, which was why they’d created a list of dangerous and high-profile criminals based on that information. Jim had come up a fair few times, but Seb had told them nothing. It looked like this Mashir bloke was their main concern, because he was the one they asked about most often. Which didn’t mean Jim was any less dangerous. Only meant he was better at covering his true influence up. 

Because half of Europe was under his control by now. Seb knew that much. All that power and still a shadow. Still just a name on a list, a potential threat. His respect for Jim grew at the thought of it.

It was what gave him the courage and resolution to keep his mouth shut when they punched him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and making him heave.

“The Americans? You served with the Americans out in Afghanistan. The perfect opportunity, one would think, for making contacts.” 

Sebastian gritted his teeth and refused to speak, even as one of the men pressed against his broken ribs. He bit through his own tongue with the pain of it, but didn’t make a sound.

“Morgan?” 

They pinched beneath his armpits. It was painful enough to make him snarl as they broke the skin. 

“Merridew?” 

Another punch in the face, only this one knocked him to one side, spittle flying out of his mouth along with a trail of blood.

“Mancini?”

The men pushed him roughly back into his seat. Sebastian prepared himself for whatever was coming next. They mixed it up a bit each time, although he reckoned they’d probably go for his back.

“Moriarty?” 

Sebastian didn’t allow his expression to change, and they passed over the name just the same as all the others. He was punched in the back, right between his shoulder blades.

“Mathews?” 

As usual, he refused to cooperate. 

Twenty minutes later he was thrown back in his cell, bloody and bruised. He thought they’d broken his nose, or at least fractured it, but he wasn’t sure. Pain didn’t seem to touch Sebastian now. In the moment, it was difficult to ignore, but after that it faded to nothing. They thought they could break him with physical assault? He’d already broken years ago. He’d broken at the funeral of Jim Moriarty.

He’d broken every day that Jim had refused to show his smug fucking face. He’d broken when his regiment had turned on him. Broken when he’d had to take the shot at the Afghani child covered in explosives. Broken when Dawn, Raj, and Aaron had been shot down one by one.

There was no room left in him for compassion now. There was no room for pain.

Only the boss and his image remained. It was all Sebastian needed. All he had left. Faith in the only man he’d ever loved. Devotion and loyalty and so much fucking rage.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Time passed. 

He’d lost count of the days exactly, but he thought it couldn’t have been more than three months, judging by the amount of times they’d cleaned out his cell and hosed him down. He’d passed out a few times recently, slipping in and out of consciousness often. It was the lack of water that had done that, he knew. It could have been weeks since the last interrogation. Could have been days. It was no use trying to get specific, though. Seb had learned that a while back. You’d go mental if you started getting into the numbers. He took each day as it came and kept himself alive out of pure loyalty to his ex-lover. 

He kept himself sane by thinking of Jim. Of Jim and what he’d do to all those who had harmed him. Seb found himself smirking as he contemplated snapping the necks of the men that had broken his ribs, in Jim’s honour. Or he could skin them alive. That would be a laugh. Jim might like that. Because Jim was always watching. And he liked to be entertained. He’d said as much in his rare video messages, in the CDs that turned up in Sebastian’s hotel rooms, in the books that were left for Seb to find and read and decipher the meaning of.

Seb hadn’t received any trinkets since he’d been captured, and he missed them. He wondered if he was still on Jim’s radar. He thought he probably was, but he secretly feared that the people that had him were too good.

He wanted to believe that Jim wouldn’t abandon him now. And he did believe it. More or less. But he’d grown suspicious of everyone. Since his regiment turned and humiliated him in public, he’d sworn never to allow himself to trust again.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

It was in Afghanistan, 2001.

They’d found out about his fling with Masters. 

It had been going on for a couple of weeks. It meant nothing. They were just two blokes letting off steam. Neil Masters was still in the closet, but he enjoyed a good fuck, and Sebastian was the best of the best. Everyone joked about it. Colonel Moran with the best aim in the British Army in whichever way you wanted to take it.

Ever since Jim had given him permission to put on a show, he’d tried to get through as many men as possible. He was reckless in his exploits, trying desperately to get Jim’s attention. To make him jealous. To get some sort of reaction from the man he knew would be watching. 

He’d been treating Masters to The Basher Moran Special back at base in his own quarters. As lieutenant colonel, he had a certain amount of space to himself. He didn’t usually bring his conquests back there, but this time they couldn’t wait. Masters had been gagging for it, and Seb had finished his duties for the moment. Fucking seemed like a great way to get his mind back in gear. 

But someone had seen them. Sebastian still didn’t know which little fucker from his regiment it had been, but next thing he knew, the story was flying around base, and there were three apparent eye-witnesses to what had happened. 

Seb had intended to use his influence and intimidation to ride the situation out. His superiors wouldn’t want to disrespect Lieutenant Colonel Moran. They wouldn’t even dare to bring the subject up with him. All it would have taken was some some careful words from Sebastian, a bit of extra work, and the whole thing would have died down. After all, with few women about, a lot of the lads turned to each other for a bit of fun now and then. Generally it was ignored and forgotten. 

But Neil, that cowardly fucking piece of shit, had panicked. He was younger than Sebastian, and more easily influenced and frightened. It had taken one day of the rumours spreading for Masters to crack under the pressure and the homophobia and claim rape. And then Sebastian was really in for it. 

It had all gone tits up after that. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Live for Jim, Sebastian told himself as his stomach ached for food and his ribs burned as they healed. Live to spite them. Live so you can kill them. 

They’d killed Dawn. She was gone. She’d never smile at him again, never take his hand and soothe him, never chatter and laugh or playfully tease her own son. 

Aaron. Poor kid. Poor fucking kid. He was too much like his parents in the end. He could have made a run for it, but he was too kind, too brave, too scared. 

Thinking about them left him cold all over. The Jamir family. All gone in one afternoon.

Which was why Jim was the only one that mattered now. He was the only one that ever should have. Death came to everyone, but not to Jim. Jim was more god than man, a shadow, a puppeteer. He was Sebastian’s everything. He consumed his thoughts, his dreams, his fury, his laughter. Jim’s voice spoke inside of Sebastian’s head each and every day. 

Some might have called it madness. Seb called it devotion. Loyalty. 

He was planning to kill the men that had slaughtered Dawn and Aaron. He’d enjoy that one. He knew how to torture a man until he lost his wits. He’d picked up more than enough from both the armed forces and his current captors. Enough to last him a lifetime. 

More animal than human, they kept on saying. Over and over until it was burned into Sebastian’s mind. Funny, that, Seb mused with a bark of a laugh that echoed through his darkened cell. He’d been human once. He remembered caring about people. He remembered talking politics with Jim, feeling empathy for the poor, for the homeless, for the unemployed. 

Now he couldn’t give a shit. There was only Jim. No other cause in the world. No other morality. No other way of life. 

It was a religion. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They came for him again that night. The cell door creaked and opened, and the light rendered him momentarily blind. He squinted into the sudden glare and was hauled to his feet. 

“You really ought to find your voice, sweetheart,” the voice in Sebastian’s head told him. “Have a little fun. You’ve earned it.” 

Sebastian chuckled lowly, and the men on either side of him held him tighter, pushed him more roughly. They were wary of him because he was unpredictable. It gave Sebastian strength to know that even in this state, he still had the potential to scare them.

“Colonel Moran,” the man at the table said. It was the same one as usual. Posh and ginger, with a downward pointed nose and blue-grey eyes. Seb hated him. “We can make life a lot easier for you if you’d only cooperate.” 

He was forced into his usual metal chair, but today he didn’t sit with military posture and grit his teeth. He leaned back against the structure and grinned. It was what Jim would have done. 

“You are a danger to the empire,” the man continued, seeming unfazed. “Unhinged, immoral and with rather too much independent thought for a soldier.” 

There was no empire, Seb thought. Fucking nutters, the lot of them. Queen and country? The Queen could kiss his fucking arse for all he cared. Fucking pampered little waste of space. He wouldn’t mind going all out on those corgis of hers either. Would have been a fun hunt…

Seb had seen the truth of the country he was sworn to protect, and he knew it was lower than low. He’d seen the Afghan people tortured, seen women raped, heard his superiors spouting racist bullshit. They didn’t care about the civilians. 

Seb took pride in his own corruption, in his capacity to take a life without a single shred of guilt. But even he wouldn’t have stooped to what some of them had. 

“So, our currently benign threat. What are we to do with you?” 

“Yeah, must be a real threat locked up in here,” Seb croaked. His voice might have been failing from lack of hydration, but he was never dry of sarcasm. It came naturally.

The atmosphere in the room changed. Colonel Moran hadn’t deigned to speak before, and his voice seemed to shock them. It was deep and rough and fierce, but most worrying of all, it quite obviously displayed intelligence.

“Oh, he speaks,” the man said, raising his eyebrows and feigning surprise. Somehow, Seb got the eerie impression that he’d anticipated his communication. If that was possible. 

“Does a lot more than that,” Seb spat out. 

“I’ll take your word for it. So, is today the day you’re going to get yourself out of here?” 

“Yeah, sure. You’re going to set me free once I’ve cooperated like a good boy. That’s in your best interests.” 

“We might.” 

Sebastian knew how to read people now. Not as well as Jim had been able to, but well enough. And the man opposite him was lying. Fucking toff was trying to play with him. It was the good cop/bad cop routine, and there was no way in hell he was buying it. 

“Fuck you,” he growled. 

“Before we found you, you were searching for someone, weren’t you?” 

“So what if I was?” 

“Was it your boss? Is someone paying you?” 

Seb threw back his head and laughed again. The sound was rough and scratchy, like tin cans being compressed in a man’s palm. He hadn’t laughed like that in a while. It gave him comfort to hear how disturbing the noise was.

The man tapped the table. 

“Do you find your predicament amusing?” he enquired. 

Seb glared across the table and didn’t respond. 

“You swore an oath to Queen and country. To protect her heirs and subjects-“ 

“And I’d put money on the fact you swore not to torture people,” Seb cut in. “But look at us now, eh?” 

“I don’t do the torturing personally. I merely extract relevant information and report it to my superiors.” 

“Upstanding citizen, you are. I bet old Queen Bess’d give you a pat on the back.”

The man smiled oddly. He was clearly amused. 

“Oh, she has,” he said easily, sighing with mild irritation. “But enough about me. This is about you, Colonel. Now, you’ve killed quite a few people. Christopher Bane is listed as your first non-ordered murder, followed by Neil Masters, the man that filed a sexual assault claim against you, but I’m sure there are some we aren’t yet aware of.” 

“Want to prove it?” 

“We know,” the man said, with dull emphasis on the second word. His blue-grey eyes flashed. 

“Records say otherwise,” Seb argued. He knew for a fact they did. Because Jim was protecting him, even now. Every misstep he took was almost magically rectified. His files had been wiped, were being wiped as he went along. It was either Jim or a very dedicated guardian angel, and Seb had ceased being religious years back.

“We all know the records can be tampered with.” 

Sebastian shrugged. It hurt, but he ignored the pain.

“You’ve got nothing on me.” 

“You think so?” 

Seb nodded. 

“I know so. It’s why you haven’t taken me into official custody. You’re doing this in private because you’re breaking the rules.” 

“Bending them, perhaps.” 

“If you had any proof, you’d have me locked up by now. I’d’ve been put on trial. But you’ve got nothing. So you’re tucking me away until you find something. But you won’t. I’m telling you now, you won’t find a single fucking thing.” 

“You’ve covered your tracks?” 

“I’m an innocent party,” Seb lied with a crooked smirk. “Ask anyone.” 

The man nodded his head, it seemed almost to display respect, mingled with his distaste. 

“An honourable soldier, yes,” he agreed. “Quite the military career. And the people do love a veteran.”

The man hummed, and Sebastian was suddenly, startlingly reminded of Jim. He blinked and swallowed. The similarities disappeared in a moment, but the second of confusion had shocked him.

“Have you ever considered we might be exactly what you’re looking for?” the man asked, sounding bored, although his eyes were sharp and intelligent. 

“No, as it happens.” 

“We need people like yourself. We’ve employed many of you before.” 

Seb tutted, his best impression of Jim. 

“What would Queen Bess think?” 

“We could offer you twice whatever your boss is. We could give you anything at all. Be it money, cars, women, or perhaps men in your case. We could make you relatively comfortable. Use you occasionally for the good of the empire.” 

Sebastian grinned again, displaying his dirty teeth.

“No can do.” 

The man hummed and glanced at Sebastian’s eyes, getting the measure of him. He changed his tone into something more patronising, although Sebastian knew that this was only an act. It led to him facing bodily harm. Every fucking time.

“You’re being very loyal to someone. I wonder who that special person is and what they’ve promised you. Most of your kind would have snapped by now.” 

Sebastian sniffed. He knew that already. But most of his kind weren’t capable of feeling love the way he could. They didn’t understand the meaning of the word ‘loyalty.’ 

“We could organise some more pleasing accommodation?” the posh man suggested. “I’m sure you’re getting tired of your cage.” 

“And what’s the catch?” 

The man sighed. Without a word, the woman with the phone, that accompanied him on every visit he gave Sebastian, turned and left the room, clicking away in her black high heels, not raising her head from her mobile screen. When she was gone, the man continued.

“We want information.” 

“I’m not up to date on current affairs,” Seb quipped darkly. “Although I could give you a run down of the amount of shit and piss currently fermenting in my ‘cage’ if you want?”

The man gave a smile that looked more like a grimace and fixed his tie with apparent distaste. 

“Colonel Moran, we know you’ve been looking for someone. You’ve travelled back and forth across Europe, America, and Asia, never stopping for long, save your time in India where you stayed with that unfortunate family. We’ve witnessed this behavior before, Colonel. We know when your kind are on the move.” 

“You think?” 

“So,” the man continued, as though there’d been no interruption. “The question is, are you hunting someone down to kill them? A former employer perhaps? A high-profile hit? Are you acting on the instructions of a new benefactor? Or are you searching for a new master to serve?” 

Sebastian gritted his teeth and said nothing. 

“It’s one of the three. Either you’re already in the employment of a name from my list of ‘M’s’, or you’re looking for a brand new boss.” 

“I’m a free spirit,” Seb said sardonically. “Don’t tend to plan things in advance. Reckon you’re overthinking the whole ‘M’ situation, personally.”

“Cooperate and we’ll give you what you want.” 

Sebastian went silent, and his eyes hardened with hatred. 

“Tell you what, I’ll name my terms, and if you can meet them, we’ve got a deal.” 

The man looked more interested than he had been in any interrogation before. He sat up attentively and pressed his lips together in concentration. 

“I want the lives of Dawn, Raj, and Aaron Jamir. You know, that ‘unfortunate family’ back in India.” 

The man let out a long sigh of frustration and closed his eyes for a second. 

“I never meant for them to die, Colonel Moran, you must believe me,” the man explained in his monotone voice. It expressed no regret whatsoever. It was all just a minor inconvenience to him. “The orders were to question them and discover your location.” 

“Shot them. The whole lot. Even the kid,” Sebastian snarled. 

“Regrettable,” the man agreed, nodding his head. “But perhaps you should have thought of that before choosing to put them in danger? You’re a known criminal and assassin. You were fully aware of the types of people trying to track you down. For employment offers, some to kill you, others to bring you to justice.” 

Sebastian spat again to show what he thought of this man’s ‘justice’. 

“Eight year old kid,” Seb said, shaking his head with disgust. 

“Please don’t try to pretend you have morals.”

“Never shot down an unarmed kid before,” Sebastian pointed out. He shifted and rested his feet on the table. He wasn’t at ease, not at all, but Jim always thought the subconscious messages you gave out were more important than your real feelings. 

“That family mattered to you?” 

Seb sniffed and leaned back in his uncomfortable chair. 

“Could say that.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian had been in India, working for a poaching ring. A crack-shot was handy when it came to the slaughtering of wild animals, and Seb had been keen to see the jungles. It was a shame he had to kill the tigers, when he’d rather have observed them, but he needed to make a living, and he thought it would give Jim a laugh. His tiger hunting tigers. Asserting himself at the top of the food chain.

The days were sweltering hot and the nights shockingly cold. Sebastian enjoyed the challenge of the dodgy terrain, the new conditions, the attack of the elements. He’d picked up a fair amount of Punjabi during his time in Asia, enough to get by, and the food was right up his street. Spicy and full of flavour. Plus nobody over there knew who he was, which gave him enough space to get down to business and sort out his next plan of action. Because India was just a pit-stop. He’d be on the move again soon, once he’d worked out where Jim was most likely to be. 

The Indian culture suited Sebastian down to a tee. He was spiritual at heart, and the customs and beliefs fascinated him. He could have been happy there, Sebastian knew, in another life. The way Dawn was. But he didn’t delude himself it was possible. Jim wouldn’t like India much, he knew, and he’d stay at his side no matter what. That was, if he could ever find him again.

Finding Jim was Sebastian’s obsession. 

Jim was in vague contact with Sebastian, but only offered the barest hints as to where he might be or what he was doing. He seemed to take pleasure in distressing Sebastian, and teasing him. 

Over the past few months Sebastian had received a fair few transmissions from Jim via hotel television networks. Jim clearly knew how to hack them, because no matter where Seb decided to kip for the night, if it had a telly, Jim would send something through for his amusement. 

Sometimes it was just a song and a series of photographs that made no sense to Sebastian, occasionally formulas flashed across the screen, but every so often a real video message would be displayed.

The most recent had been the most infuriating so far. 

Jim had begun with a simple poem in his drawling tones. 

“Tiger, tiger, burning bright,  
In the forests of the night,  
What immortal hand or eye,  
Could frame thy fearful symmetry.” 

Then he’d smirked and blown Sebastian a kiss, although only the bottom half of his face was showing. Seb had sat back on his hotel bed and felt his heart ache, even now, all those years on.

He still remembered every detail of their joint past. He often wished he could return there.

“Hello, darling! Someone’s been a naughty boy, I hear. Poaching seems a little beneath you, but who am I to judge, hm? I suppose a man has to do what a man has to do.” 

There was spite to that last sentence, but Sebastian chose to ignore it.

“I know all about your little quest through Europe, and I’m flattered. But I won’t tell you if you’re getting hotter or colder, because that would spoil all our fun, wouldn’t it?”

Seb stuck his middle finger up at the screen. He thought Jim was most likely monitoring him somehow, even if he couldn’t see the camera.

“Truth be told I’m really very lonely, but I’m informed business and pleasure don’t mix. Did you see the bank heist in Italy last week? Daddy has a lot of cash to burn.”

Sebastian hated it when he called himself that, but there was no way of communicating that to Jim. Mostly because he didn’t listen, only spoke. And Seb got the impression part of that new name Jim had given himself was to make him uncomfortable.

“Enjoy Asia, sweetheart. Keep on entertaining Daddy!” 

And then the screen turned itself off. That was it. All he was offered. 

But despite it all Sebastian was more in love with Jim than ever.

Sebastian had been staying with Dawn, Raj, and Aaron for a few days, and intended to stop there for a week or so before moving on. Sticking around in one location was too risky, and he didn’t want to put them in danger. 

They’d been pleased to see him, although Raj was clearly quite ill. He looked weaker and older than Sebastian had ever seen him, and he kept having to go off and lay down, although he was polite and kind and seemed to be happy that he was visiting.

Aaron Jamir was a quiet and well-mannered little boy that enjoyed reading and helping his parents cook. He’d been shy around his Uncle Sebastian when he’d first turned up, because the man was so fierce and tall and had blue eyes that burned cold and a nasty scar all the way from his forehead to his cheek, but he’d quickly warmed to him. He’d taught Sebastian some card tricks and showed him how good he was at handstands, even tried to teach him more Punjabi. On their second night, he’d asked Sebastian to make dinner with him, and the pair of them had had a laugh preparing a simple curry that both Dawn and Raj claimed to love. 

It was an alien feeling for Sebastian, like something from another life, just spending time with a kid and pretending he was a normal man, not a murderer, a wanted criminal.

“You have the best of both worlds, isn’t that right, my son?” Raj had said when they’d spoken of Aaron’s mixed heritage and ability to speak both Punjabi and English. Seb loved listening to Raj call Aaron that. He was obviously still as proud of his son as he had been when he was a baby.

Dawn seemed to think so too. She was as plump as ever, but looked healthy and tanned and content. She went barefoot, although still enjoyed wearing tracksuit bottoms and t-shirts. Sebastian was glad to see how settled she was, and how well she got on with both her husband and her son. Raj and Dawn talked about all sorts of things and laughed and joked, and Aaron enjoyed sitting between them quietly, listening and learning.

Seb hadn’t spent his days with them, of course. He’d been working. The poaching ring needed him about, and there was a new tigress they were on the scent of, who they thought would make them a fair amount of cash. Sebastian was the only one with the nerve to trail her, since she was notoriously fearsome. It was thought she was a new mother and protecting her young, which made her volatile and more inclined to rip a man to shreds should he get close to her. 

On the day of the incident, Seb had been high on adrenaline, having shot the tigress through the heart and then followed the wounded beast into an old drainage system. She was more fierce than even he had anticipated, and despite all reason saying she should have died instantly, she’d attempted to maul him to death in her own dying moments. 

The men had been shocked to see Sebastian appear from the old piping, dragging her body along with him, laughing roughly like a lunatic, blood covering his chest from where she’d swiped at him with her claws.

After the initial celebrations, booze and jests, the icing on the cake had arrived in the form of a message from a mysterious number. Which meant Jim knew all about it.

‘Eye of the Tiger’ by Survivor had been playing for the third time when the text from Dawn flashed up on his screen. Seb had been smirking at Jim’s newest offering. But the expression died on his face when he read Dawn’s message. 

It was a single word: ‘Help.’ 

Which meant he left immediately without a single word of excuse and travelled back to Dawn.

He’d sprinted towards Dawn and Raj’s home, barreling his way through the surging crowds, avoiding men and women and rickshaws and bikes and even the occasional cow. 

People yelled at him in Punjabi and Hindi, but he ignored them. Narrowly avoiding a group of children playing by the side of the road, he tore around the corner and didn’t stop running until he reached the street that Dawn now lived on. 

It was only when he was close enough to see the place that he realised ‘Eye of the Tiger’ was still playing. His stomach lurched as he turned the sound on his mobile off. Because there were cars parked on the street. Watching and waiting. 

Skidding to a stop, Sebastian swore under his breath and moved behind a nearby house, obscuring himself from anyone that might be hunting for him. It was the only reason they’d be outside Dawn’s place. They’d come for him. At last. As Sebastian had always feared they might.

The street, which was usually full of people, seemed to have cleared. Which could only mean trouble. The locals knew full well when to mind their own business. An elderly man sat alone on the dusty ground, eyes closed, enjoying the Indian sun. He didn’t look like he had a care in the world. But then he subtly raised his hand and pointed at the alleyway behind him without opening his eyes. 

Go round the back, Sebastian inwardly told himself, nodding. He wanted to thank the man, but he still had his eyes closed. Usually his reactions were faster than this, more immediate, but this was Dawn. This was Raj. This was little Aaron. He couldn’t do anything rash. One fuck-up on his behalf and they were done for. Because Sebastian knew the sort of people that were after him, and he knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill half the country if it meant reprimanding the infamous Colonel Moran. He was worth a lot to a lot of people.

He darted across the road and then ran down the alley, avoiding washing that hung on lines by ducking his head and tearing any further obstacles out of the way with his hands, leaving a trail of discarded coloured fabrics in the dust behind him.

And then he heard the shot. 

It rang out quite suddenly, and was followed by the worst sound Sebastian could imagine:

Dawn screaming. 

“No, fuck no,” Sebastian muttered desperately, gritting his teeth and reaching for his own gun. It wasn’t his best, but he hadn’t planned on getting into any major trouble today, and his best weapons were still with the poachers. Swallowing, he listened for any further noises. He could hear a child crying. 

Which meant that most likely Raj was dead.

When Sebastian made it to the back of the house, climbing over a wall and scrambling into the dust for cover, he could hear fragments of frantic conversation spilling out of the open back door. 

“Now you know we’re serious,” came a man’s voice. British, judging by the accent. “One more time, Miss Young.” 

“Mrs Jamir!” Dawn shouted. “I’m Mrs Jamir!” 

“Mrs Jamir, I’ll ask you the question again.” 

“You stay away from my son! Aaron, you leave your Papaji! Aaron! Go upstairs! Aaron! Go upstairs, Aaron!” 

Sebastian tried to detach himself, to get into combat mode. But he couldn’t. Not with Aaron crying and Dawn screaming, the atmosphere icy cold with danger.

Raj was probably dead, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t get Dawn and Aaron out of this alive. Come on, Moran, the voice inside his voice said. Two civilians. You’ve done this before.

And so he moved through the back garden and entered the house slowly, careful not to cast any visible shadow. The light was on his side. 

“Where is Sebastian Moran?” 

“Are you going to shoot him as well?” Dawn demanded tearfully, her voice both hysterical and fierce. “Are you going to shoot him like you shot my husband?!”

“You’ve been harbouring a dangerous criminal threat. Where is he?” 

Sebastian grimaced as he changed his position. He got close enough to see inside the kitchen from a certain angle. From his new spot he could see Dawn, just about, trembling but magnificent with rage and defiance. He could see Aaron, who was thankfully unharmed, but crying silently with terror, tiny knees knocking together as he stood beside what appeared to be Raj’s corpse. Sebastian could see crimson creeping its way out into the hall.

“Criminal threat?! Sebastian’s been a part of this family for as long as we’ve been one, and you’re not touching him! Do you understand me?!” 

Had Sebastian been in any other mode he would have sunk to his knees with guilt. Dawn didn’t have any idea about his illegal activities. She wasn’t even aware of his dishonourable discharge. She was defending him even now, at gunpoint, as she always had, but she didn’t know the truth. It was all for a lie. 

“Aaron, move away from your dad,” Dawn said more softly, trying to gesture that Aaron should step out of the room. “Aaron baby, he’s not in pain, sweetheart. Aaron, go upstairs please. Aaron, go.”

And then she seemed to catch sight of Sebastian. He’d remember the relief on her face until his dying day. Because Sebastian had been closer to Aaron than the man with the gun. If Aaron could just get out of the room then Sebastian could shield him from harm.

Dawn had thought her baby was safe. But she was wrong.

Come on, kiddo, Sebastian thought furiously, as Aaron stood and trembled and blinked down at his dead father with tearful, devastated eyes. Come on, kiddo. Two steps and you’re in the clear.

“Aaron, baby,” Dawn had said through her sobs, shoulders shaking with mingled fear and relief. Sebastian could see the gunman was aiming his weapon at her head, but her only concern was for her son. “Aaron, baby, you leave Papaji alone now. Just go to your bedroom, okay? Aaron, please go upstairs…” 

Sebastian could have reached out and grabbed Aaron out of harm’s way. But one sudden movement and Dawn’s head would be blown wide open at close range. Could he do that? Could he risk Dawn’s life? 

“Enough talking,” the man suddenly declared, grabbing Dawn roughly and forcing her to her knees. He held the gun clearly to the back of her head. Sebastian saw Dawn trying to be brave for Aaron, but tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her plump hands were now stained with Raj’s blood which was spilling all over the kitchen floor.

“One more time, you’ll tell us where Sebastian Moran is, or you’ll go the same way as your husband.” 

“I don’t know,” Dawn panted out, shaking all over. “I don’t know. I don’t know where he is…” 

Come on, kiddo, Sebastian thought again, as Aaron looked on the brink of moving. He wiped at his eyes with his skinny hands and looked surprised by the amount of his father’s blood all over his bare feet. Get out of there, kid. Come on. Two steps, kiddo…

He made one step, gingerly, not seeming to want to leave his mother with the man with the gun. Sebastian saw Dawn glance significantly towards him, and Aaron seemed to catch on. He turned to the door and spotted his Uncle Sebastian. 

Come on, kid! Come on! 

But just as Sebastian was about to snatch him into the corridor, grab him, and run for both of their lives, the back door burst open behind him and he knew there was no way out of this. 

Aaron heard the door slam against the wall and looked fearfully at his mother. 

“Run, Aaron!” she screamed, and then the shot rang out, just as Sebastian reached for the slender, shaking little boy and snatched him out of the room. 

Dawn’s body slumped onto the kitchen floor with a sickening crack as her skull hit the stone flooring. She and Raj lay dead together, bleeding out. 

Sebastian gathered Aaron into his arms and sprinted back through the living room. But the two men and one woman who had come through the back of the house had seen them. And they followed. 

“It’s alright, kiddo,” Sebastian panted out as he kicked open the living room window and ducked out of it, Aaron shaking and crying and clutching at him. His tiny brown feet were staining Sebastian’s jeans red with blood. 

They got as far as the next alley when they were cornered. Five men, all armed, advanced on the pair, and there was nowhere left to run. 

“Leave the kid out of it!” Sebastian shouted down the alley, trying to make as much noise as possible, to draw in some witnesses. If they were with the government then they couldn’t kill a kid in plain view of too many people. 

But the locals didn’t approach. 

Aaron had gone completely limp by now. He nestled his forehead against Sebastian’s neck and sobbed and sobbed for his mother and father. Uncle Sebastian was the only person left. 

“I mean it!” Sebastian yelled. “You can take me in, but you leave the kid alone! You understand me?!” 

He aimed his gun at them each in turn, but even he knew he was outnumbered. 

“Colonel Moran, the British Government would like a word with you,” came the voice of one of the men. 

Sebastian kept a firm and protective hold on Aaron and sniffed, not lowering his gun. 

“You leave the kid, I’ll go with you.” 

The men exchanged glances and then seemed to come to a decision.

“Disarm, Colonel,” they shouted back firmly. “Disarm and the child can go free. It’s you we want.”

“You hear that, kiddo?” Sebastian breathed out, trying to calm Aaron down. His tiny body was shaking hard and he was icy cold. “You’re gonna be alright, ‘kay? Everything’s gonna be just fine. You need to let go of me now, yeah? Stand up for me like a brave boy?” 

Aaron nodded his head and Sebastian put him down on the ground. At the same time he carefully lowered his handgun and placed it down in the dust. 

“Hands in the air, Colonel!” 

Sebastian nodded. He pressed a kiss to Aaron’s forehead, then lifted his arms, placing them behind his head. He walked slowly towards the men in suits, eyes narrowed, teeth bared. 

It was the first time he’d gone willingly in his life.

It all happened quickly after that. They took hold of him roughly, cuffed his hands behind his back, placed a bag over his head and began to lead him away. 

“What about the kid?” Sebastian spat out from between bared teeth. “He needs someplace to go. He’s got family in Britain. They’d take him in.” 

The man patted him on the shoulder. His touch made Sebastian cringe.

“Of course, Colonel. We won’t forget the child,” he said in his deep voice. 

And then another shot rang out and one more body, a tiny one this time, collapsed on the dusty ground.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian had fought them after that, but it was no use. They put him in the back of a car, drove him for miles, and then stuck him on a plane. 

He thought he was probably heading back to his home, Britain. The climate changed, at least, and all the accents he was exposed to were English, most of them upper-class. 

And then he’d been injected with something that made him sleep.

When he woke up, he was in his cell. Phone had been confiscated, clothes stripped from his body and replaced with a weird grey outfit that looked like pyjamas, and everything was dark.

On that first night he’d closed his eyes and prayed to Jim. C’mon, boss, he’d muttered under his breath. Work your magic, Jim, c’mon. 

He’d done the same thing on the second night, after his first official ‘interrogation’. And the same on the third. And the fourth. 

But it was no use. Wherever he was now, Jim couldn’t get to him. He was alone.


	95. Captivity: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian has several meetings with 'Ginger Toff' and learns his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: We really are close to the end now. Very close.

The next time they came to get him for his interrogation, something had changed. Sebastian sensed it the moment the two men entered his cell to collect him. 

They didn’t knock him around this time. They held him firmly by the arms and addressed him as ‘Colonel’ instead of ‘Tiger’ or ‘Captain Faggot.’ Seb was instantly suspicious of this new behaviour. It could mean only one of two things. There had been a development on his case, or they were going to kill him and have done with it. Either way, he was ready, and he sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight. Jim wouldn’t have wanted him to just give in. Jim would want a show, one final burst of fury. And Sebastian could give him that. 

He was marched down the corridor, supported by the men, since his broken ribs made walking more difficult than usual. There were no windows in this hall, just grey concrete all around. No hints whatsoever of where he might be. No signs, no words, nothing to look at. It was grim. More so than the army had been. At least the shitty conditions there had been naturally made. Mud and blood and guts and sun beating down on your face. The weight of your pack, the cool metal of your weapon, the ache of your body as you crouched in position, awaiting orders.

Seb found he missed it. All that noise, all that danger, but also the rare moments of silence. Natural silence. Silence ready to be broken with a shot or a shout or a bird calling out across the dusty landscape. He missed the mingled solitude and belonging. Missed natural light that made him squint and grimace. Missed the taste of dirt whenever he hit the ground. Missed the shitty food and the uncomfortable bedding. Even missed the wounds he’d endured, the sting of shrapnel slashing across his face and giving him his facial scar, the one that stretched from forehead to cheek on his left hand side. 

They reached the interrogation room and the men typed in a passcode. The door beeped and clicked, and the heavy block of metal swung open. It had an odd smell to it, the interrogation room. Of disinfectant, from where they cleaned away any blood, and of cold, stinking metal. 

Sebastian noticed the uncomfortable chair they usually sat him in had a cushion on it today. He raised an eyebrow and settled down, snarling at the interrogator who was seated opposite him. The ginger man, who Sebastian privately liked to call Ginger Toff, seeing as he hadn’t given his name, was wearing a grey suit with a folded up red and white polka-dot handkerchief sticking out of his top pocket.

Both the attractive woman with the phone and the soldier with the gun were missing. It was just the two of them apparently. One on one. Ginger Toff and himself. Although Seb knew they were being monitored by the cameras on the walls. They always were. There was no such thing as privacy now. 

“This is cosy,” Sebastian said, when it seemed the man opposite him wasn’t going to begin the conversation. He looked far more stressed-out than usual.

“We’ve been doing some background checks,” the man announced into the silence. His posh voice echoed off the walls. “Difficult, in your case, because someone seems to have wiped the system, but we managed to get a few accounts of your life prior to dishonourable discharge. It’s taken a while to compile, I can assure you of that. Mostly because any that had dealings with you in your childhood seem to have met untimely ends.” 

Sebastian licked his lips and offered nothing to the conversation. He didn’t want anyone knowing who he was before. That version of himself had been a kid, an innocent. Back then he’d been vulnerable and weak. That was before the army taught him all about life, before Jim’s funeral, before he’d learned all about taking people for granted and the price you paid for disloyalty.

“We know that you were badly abused by your father as a child. Please accept our sincere condolences.” 

Seb didn’t respond. If they thought bringing that up was going to make him talk, then they had another thing coming. As far as he was concerned, the little boy that had been beaten and abused was someone else. Some other kid from a story. A blond child that enjoyed reading and climbing and followed Jim Moriarty around like they were connected by an invisible string.

“They’d go easy on you in a court of law, you know. The traumatic childhood combined with your experiences in the military could be used to have you out in no time at all. We could arrange that. A short sentence, then complete freedom. I’m sure we could provide you with an apartment. Somewhere pleasant. Central location. On the condition that you did exactly as you were asked.”

This was suspicious. Yes, Ginger Toff had suggested similar scenarios before, but never with sincerity, and never without people in the room to start torturing him into submission. Seb knew that usually it was a carrot and stick scenario. He got a ‘reward’ if he did as he was told. He got a punishment if he disobeyed. And Sebastian Moran had made a point to never again obey any person but Jim.

“Generous of you. Considering,” he said with a sniff. 

“Very,” the man agreed, looking infuriatingly blank. “You wouldn’t be the first danger to the people we’ve… rehoused.”

Sebastian thought of the way the police had allowed a known paedophile, Stanley Benson, to live unmonitored back in London. He remembered that they gave him a new identity to stop people from forming a mob and driving him out. He remembered the way Jim had whimpered and cried and wet himself as a child, remembered how he’d had to take justice into his own hands at only thirteen years old to make sure Stanley was punished for what he’d done.

He found himself grinning dangerously with mingled spite and defiance.

“No thanks. Don’t fancy prison,” he said firmly. 

“You don’t think you could serve a year on the condition you were released soon after and were then well looked-after by the state?” 

It was the wrong thing to say, and the man seemed to realise this a second too late. 

“You think I want to be in your debt?” Sebastian snarled. 

“It’s a better offer than most here ever receive. You’d do well to accept it and think yourself lucky.” 

Sebastian hated the government. He hated his country. He hated authority. It was all some massive fucking lie. Britain was just as corrupt as Afghanistan, Sebastian knew. Just as willing to let the people suffer. Only it hid behind a prim and proper façade. He’d seen the Geneva Convention broken time and time again by fellow soldiers. Britain was a steaming pile of shit, and it deserved whatever misfortune it got.

Seb had no time for the system. It no longer meant anything to him. Nor did these empty promises. 

“Answer’s no,” he grunted. 

Ginger Toff sighed, long and lingering, and then rubbed his temples.

“Then, regrettably, you leave us no choice.” 

Sebastian’s heart stopped for a moment, but after one glance at the man on the opposite side of the table, he knew it was a lie. If they were going to kill you, Moran sweetheart, they would have done it already…

“You won’t kill me,” Sebastian pointed out with gruff certainty. 

“Oh?” 

“’Course you won’t. You’re bluffing. Because whoever has their eye on me, whichever big bad criminal boss wants me on their books, is most likely watching you right now. Doubt they’d take kindly to you bumping me off on the quiet.” 

Ginger Toff smiled, although Sebastian couldn’t tell exactly what it meant. 

“You think so?” he asked with only vague interest. 

Sebastian nodded and raised his chin. Did Toff think that playing the disdainful superior was going to bring him to heel? He’d grown up with Jim Moriarty, for fuck’s sake. He was well practiced in ignoring emotional manipulation and mind games. 

“Know so. You haven’t killed me yet because whoever it is I might theoretically be working for or protected by might not be too happy if you do. They might come after you, and you don’t want that.” 

Ginger Toff sighed again. 

“Very astute,” he admitted begrudgingly. 

“Could have gone to Oxford,” Sebastian said. He’d surprised himself by voluntarily giving away that information, but he supposed his solitary confinement had put him in danger of that. He still wanted to prove himself, even now, he realised. It’s your one weakness, darling, the voice in his head drawled. Along with your pretty little heart…

“We’re well aware of that,” Ginger Toff admitted. “You’re far more intelligent than most would care to give you credit for. But it is unusual to find a soldier of your reputation with a mind to match.” 

Seb licked his lips and refused to look proud of himself. This was just another game, another tactic to get him to spill the beans or give in. And it wasn’t going to work. 

That was one thing for his captors, though. As badly as they’d treated him, they’d always acknowledged his intelligence. It seemed to unsettle them, a military man with an impressive brain as well. He’d heard of rogue soldiers before, of course he had. They were all over the news. But Sebastian was aware from his treatment here that a soldier of his mental capacity was far more rare than most people knew. 

Because no matter how much they hurt him, no matter how much they seemed to despise him, they seemed to want him as well. On their side.

“Do you think we don’t have significant resources to prevent your apparent fan from causing havoc?” he asked with a smile that turned up crookedly at one side. 

Sebastian swept his blue eyes over the man in front of him once again. He was bright. Far more intelligent than he was. He seemed like the sort of man Jim might have enjoyed conversing with. 

But he absolutely definitely wasn’t trustworthy. Seb knew that much from instinct alone. 

“They want me alive,” Sebastian pointed out, clinging to the only piece of information he knew for certain. “They won’t like it if you bump me off.” 

“You could go missing.” 

“And you could grow a pair of wings and float off into the night sky. I’m not buying it,” Sebastian said sarcastically. 

The man nodded his head and thought for a moment. 

“As it happens, Colonel, we’ve recently been contacted.” 

Sebastian felt his heart soar. Relief flooded his body in a sudden burst of adrenaline and he had to fight not to let it show.

“By a man, or a woman, going simply by the name of ‘M’.” 

Sebastian sniffed. 

“And said?” 

“I won’t bore you with the details, but they want you alive.” 

Sebastian felt his fingers twitch with excitement. 

“Yeah, we’d gathered that much already. Get to the point, will you?”

Ginger Toff did not seem at all pleased with being spoken to in that way, but after a short grimace, he recovered himself. 

“They’ve made certain… requests.” 

Sebastian grinned crookedly. The man opposite him shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable for the first time since they’d met. 

The Colonel threw back his head and laughed, flashing his teeth.

“What’ve they threatened to do?” he asked, thoroughly enjoying himself now. This whole thing screamed of Jim. It seemed like an act of love, and Sebastian wanted to savour the amount of destruction Jim had threatened to create on his behalf.

The man rubbed once again at his forehead. Seb noticed quite suddenly that the man wasn’t as old as he’d previously thought. They had to be around the same age, roughly. Only this bloke had wrinkles from stress and a receding hairline. 

“They’ve threatened to blow up Piccadilly Circus, Earls Court, and several locations along the South Bank,” he admitted wearily. 

Sebastian chuckled. 

“To start with,” the man added uncomfortably. “I’m assured that’s only the beginning.” 

Seb nodded his head, impressed. He crossed his feet and sniffed. He could feel the control of the conversation shifting back to him. The power was in his hands now. He wasn’t just a prisoner anymore, to be abused whenever they saw fit. He was a high-profile hostage, and they were starting to seriously regret the harm they’d done him.

“Any idea why they’d be so violently opposed to any harm coming to your person?” Toff asked. 

“I’ve heard there are a few out there in need of a good shot,” Seb said vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. 

The man didn’t look convinced. He frowned, but nodded. 

“Quite,” he agreed. “But you’re certain we can’t come to an arrangement? Rest assured, we can make a lot of things happen. We could set you up quite comfortably in another country, give you as much money as you could possibly want. If you were to align yourself with the British Government, you could serve your country again.” 

Seb noticed the offer had improved. Which meant they were getting desperate. Jim was scaring them. He was piling on the pressure. 

And they were so fucking close to crumbling.

“Nah,” Seb answered, shaking his head. “Not interested.”

There was a long pause, and the electric lights flickered. Then the man got up with a sigh. The door opened behind him so he could leave. 

“Well, Colonel Moran, you’ll be taken along to your new quarters soon enough. We’ll see that you’re decently fed.” 

Typical fucking British government, Sebastian thought bitterly. When he was a nobody they’d stuck him in a cell full of shit. But now some criminal threat had championed him, they were going to pamper him like one of Her Majesty’s fucking corgis. 

“Could do with a flushing toilet, too,” Seb quipped, raising an eyebrow. He brought a hand up to feel his beard, coarse and fouled with dried blood. “And a razor. I don’t suit facial hair.”

“Razors aren’t permitted,” the man said strictly. 

“You think I’m going to top myself?” 

“You might.” 

Sebastian supposed that made sense. Had he been the usual misanthropic criminal he could have killed himself just to see London burn. But he wasn’t the average lawbreaker. He belonged to Jim, and death wasn’t an option without his express permission.

“Fine, toothpaste, then,” he amended. “Mouthwash, the works. Don’t fancy looking like a homeless bloke for much longer. Oh, and a packet of fags. Could do with a smoke.” 

“Yes, yes,” the man mumbled. He despised being given orders. It was obvious in his body language. 

“Think I’ll have sausages for dinner tonight,” Sebastian added, deliberately pushing his luck. “And chips. Wouldn’t want to piss off Big Brother now, eh?” 

For some reason, Ginger Toff bristled momentarily at that.

“No, we would not,” he said stiffly. “We have British citizens at stake.”

The man sighed and took a folded handkerchief out of his top pocket. 

“I’m sure it can be arranged. Good evening, Colonel.” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

His new quarters were almost astoundingly lavish. For three rooms, they’d really pushed the boat out. There was a leather sofa, a large bed with comfortable duvet and cushions, a bookshelf, a radio which played various tracks but never transmitted any news of current affairs or hinted at what the date was, and an en-suite bathroom so he didn’t have to shit on the floor. 

They probably thought this was minimal, posh bastards that they were, but having grown up in a care home and gone straight into the army, Sebastian thought this was probably the most opulent place he’d ever stayed in, save the hotel with Jim that one time.

The cameras in each room ruined the effect somewhat, but Sebastian had no further complaints on that front. After all, he reckoned this wasn’t usual practice, housing a wanted criminal in some sort of makeshift hotel suite. And he owed it all to Jim. 

Get me out, Jim, he thought to himself each and every night. Break me out of here. I know you’re watching. Burn the place to the ground. Come on…

Entertainment was thin on the ground, and he had no visitors, save the ginger posh bloke in the swanky suits that spoke in monotone and looked permanently harassed. Most of his time he spent listening to the radio or writing poetry. Nothing too personal, because he knew his captors could read his creations at any time. Most of it was abstract, just playing with words. Like the Bard would have done. 

Sebastian kept thinking about that letter he’d received while in the army. The card with Shakespeare and Houdini stuck on it. There was no better analogy right now, he often mused to himself. He was fulfilling his part of the bargain, keeping himself sane with wordplay and the archaic language he’d so loved during his youth, and now it fell to Jim to use those notorious underhand skills of his and stage a break-out. 

He was under constant surveillance, which meant he couldn’t get any messages to Jim. Jim may well have been able to hack his way into the cameras, but there was no way Seb could communicate anything to him without the government also getting the message. 

They fed him three meals a day with milk and water to drink, along with plenty of fruit and vegetables. This, alongside the medical care they’d suddenly started to provide him with, was helping him to heal. 

Sebastian got the distinct impression they were panicking over his current state. He didn’t know what Jim had threatened to do to them if he found him harmed, but they were all keen to avoid whatever it was coming to pass. 

In a month, Sebastian’s teeth were scrubbed back to their usual white. His hair was dishwater blond, but clean and cut short. His ribs healed and his wounds from the torture he’d endured were treated by doctors. They even operated on the scar that stretched across the left side of his face. Apparently he looked better for it, but he couldn’t tell. They hadn’t provided him with a mirror. 

He trained, alone in his three lavish rooms. Just the same as he had done as a kid. Press-ups, jogging, army drills, sit-ups. The works. Every day. Over and over.

He wanted to be in shape for Jim when he rescued him from this hellhole. He wanted to be the soldier he’d been when he came home from Afghanistan. Not the beaten, broken, animalistic wreck the government had made of him with their abuse and their torture. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

His little chats with Ginger Toff no longer took place in the interrogation room. The man came to his quarters, like a friend just popping round for a catch-up. It was absolutely fucking mental, Seb thought, the way the man forced pleasantries as he entered Sebastian’s rooms. Sometimes he brought an umbrella with him, which Sebastian eyed warily. He wouldn’t put it past him to have some substance in the end of it, ready to inject him with. Because there was no reason you’d need a fucking brolly indoors. Not even in British weather. If they were even in Britain. 

“You certainly do scrub up well,” he commented, looking Sebastian up and down. It might have been a compliment, but the tone was disapproving. 

Ginger Toff was no longer looking ginger, which meant he’d dyed his hair. It was darker, a shade of brown, although his eyebrows were the same as before. Sebastian wondered why he’d done so, if maybe he was some sort of CIA agent that had to change his appearance for security reasons. 

“And why’ve I got the pleasure of your company today?” Seb asked gruffly. 

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows. He’d grown arrogant now, in response to his treatment. Now the threat of bodily harm had been lifted, he could afford to push the boundaries. Jim probably would have liked that, he often thought. He might have been shut up in a set of high security rooms like some fucking pet, but that didn’t mean he was under their power. He was waiting, simple as that. Waiting for Jim to release him and claim him once again as his own.

“I like my Tiger with a bit of bite,” Jim had once drawled as they lay in bed together. 

Seb remembered all of those moments, even now. Every single one, no matter how mundane. Jim brushing his teeth in the mornings and frowning at the toothpaste he spat into the sink. Jim nibbling at toast and grimacing at the crumbs that fell onto his trousers. Jim complaining about pointless things and strutting around the bedroom making dramatic arm gestures and then flopping down on Sebastian’s bed.

“You’ve received a present,” the Toff announced, snapping Sebastian out of his thoughts. 

Sebastian tried not to let his eagerness bloom on his face. He showed Ginger Toff to the main leather sofa and then sat himself down in the armchair, legs spread confidently, elbows resting on his thighs. 

Today he was wearing a pair of expensive but poorly fitted jeans and a white t-shirt. It was all they supplied him with, apart from boxer shorts and socks. They wouldn’t even give him back his dog tags. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes.” 

Ginger Toff held up a brown envelope and leaned over to hand it to Sebastian. It had already been opened, the contents probably examined. They hadn’t even bothered to disguise their prying. But there were no secrets anymore. Sebastian was a hostage, and privacy was a thing of the past, a long distant memory.

Even the knocking on his door had been a farce. Anyone with the passcode could have come into his living quarters. With or without his permission or consent.

Seb licked his lips and pulled the package close. He took a book out of the envelope and turned it over in his hands. 

It was Grimms' Fairy Tales: Volume Two. 

“Initial thoughts, Colonel?”

“It’s a book,” Sebastian offered sarcastically, flicking at the spine of the antique book with his fingertip. It felt pleasantly heavy in his hands, the pages crisp with age. He’d always liked books. Often considered writing one of his own. As it was he’d published a few poems under a pseudonym, but nothing under the name of Moran. It had been necessary to deal with the experiences of war. 

“With personal meaning?” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, right up my street, this. Happily-ever-after and all that.” 

“You planned on studying English Literature with History at Oxford University.” Ginger Toff pointed out, fixing his red tie. 

“You’ve obviously had a good look at this,” Sebastian said flatly, tapping on the spine of his new gift once again. “Find anything?” 

“No,” the man admitted. 

“Then I expect it’s just something to keep me entertained. Because it’s really fucking dull living in ‘captivity.’” 

“Your accommodation is the very best we can-“ 

Sebastian shook his head. No doubt this bloke lived in a fucking mansion or something. Privileged twat. 

“Try living in three rooms for a few months, then get back to me on that.” 

Ginger Toff drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. A single ring glinted on the fourth finger of his right hand. 

“You are property of the government-“ he began in monotone, but Sebastian gritted his teeth.

“Don’t you ever fucking say that,’ Sebastian suddenly snarled, standing up and kicking at his armchair. He grabbed the ashtray off the table and threw it across the room with force. Being made of plastic, it didn’t shatter, merely bounced off the wall and onto the floor.

The man gave him a long, searching look. 

“And you’re averse to that idea because?” 

“Because I’m not your fucking property. Any of you. You understand me?” 

Ginger Toff surveyed him, and then stood slowly, looking both grim and intrigued. Colonel Moran had made an impulsive movement which had betrayed something of his inner workings. His hand had twitched towards his own hip, where the initials ‘J.M.’ were carved. 

“Thank you for your time, as ever,” the man said civilly. “Enjoy your book. The Brothers Grimm. An intriguing set of tales.” 

“You’ll let me know if there’s any more developments?” Sebastian asked as the man picked up his umbrella, which had previously been balanced against his leg, and walked calmly but confidently towards the main door. 

Ginger Toff turned momentarily and cast his blue-grey eyes all over the ex-sniper. 

“You’ll be informed of anything we judge it necessary to tell you,” he said simply. “Have a good evening, Colonel Moran.”

And then he was gone. 

Sebastian threw himself down on the main sofa and stuck his feet on the armrest, already flicking through his new book with a crazed form of desperation. If this was from Jim then there had to be a reason for it. 

He read the contents, eyes flicking over each title printed in black ink. Some names he recognised. Others were more unusual, although he recalled Jim speaking about them in passing. He’d always had a fondness for fairy tales. Especially those in which the villains won.

You’ve got days to waste, Moran, the voice in his head drawled. Best get reading now, hm?

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

It was a week or so later when Sebastian was next visited by an extremely harassed-looking Ginger Toff. Today he’d left his umbrella behind and held only a pocket book in one hand. 

“You’re free to go,” were the first words out of his mouth when the electronic lock on the main door had been opened and he’d stepped through it in his perfectly pressed grey trousers and old-fashioned waistcoat and blue tie combination. 

Sebastian, who hadn’t been warned he’d be receiving a visit from anyone, got up from the living room floor, where he’d been doing press-ups, and narrowed his eyes at the man. 

“What? Why?” 

“NATO is under threat. We’ve come to an arrangement. Your freedom for NATO’s safety.” 

Sebastian couldn’t believe it. Was that it, then? All over? As quickly as that? 

“So I can walk?” he confirmed, still suspicious and unwilling to allow himself to get overexcited. “No electronic tagging? No nothing?”

“Yes,” the man announced, putting a strange emphasis on the word. “We’ve been told, in no uncertain terms, that you’re not to be maimed or branded in any way whatsoever.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, unsure of how to react to this unexpected development, after all the weeks of captivity. The visits from psychiatrists, from doctors, from government officials, from Ginger Toff himself, who seemed to be in some sort of position of power, although he never said which. He didn’t trust any of them. 

“So I can just walk out of here right now?” 

The man shook his head like a disapproving schoolteacher. Sebastian remembered Jim shared that mannerism and then felt slightly sick for making the comparison. 

“No, because that would disclose our location. You’ll be drugged, transported to a drop-off point somewhere in London, and then you’ll have to find your own way.” 

“How do I know you’re not just going to chuck me in the Thames in a sack?” 

Ginger Toff smiled nastily. 

“You don’t, Colonel Moran.” 

Seb raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. 

“But you must realise that we don’t want to lose NATO. A catastrophe on that scale could put us all in danger.” 

Sebastian nodded. He wondered if Jim really did have the power to cause that much destruction, or if it was all a massive bluff. 

“Why you’re so particularly valuable to this one specific person is for us to speculate on,” Ginger Toff continued with vague interest. “You’re not the only good shot in the world. But never mind. I think it’s time you collected your things together.” 

“When are you going to drug me?” 

“You’re being released with immediate effect. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll send in a couple of doctors. Do you consent?” 

Sebastian sniffed. He licked his lips and chewed on the inside of his cheek. It felt too good to be true. 

“Yeah, I consent,” he grunted, scratching at his inner arms and then moving into the second room, already thinking about what he’d need. 

“Excellent,” Ginger Toff said quietly, and he began to walk towards the door. Sebastian heard his footfalls, even and irritating on the carpet.

“How old am I?” he suddenly shouted to the man from the other room, the words slipping from his lips before he had a chance to think about them. 

Seb didn’t know how long he’d been held by the government for. He didn’t know anything much of the outside world. Since Afghanistan everything had been a blur. 

Ginger Toff stuck his head into the room and smiled again. It was sinister, that look. Like he knew too much.

“You’re twenty eight years old. It’s April the twenty fourth.”

With that, the man left. 

Sebastian rushed into his bedroom and picked up all he needed. His book of fairy tales was the only possession he had on him. With any luck they’d return the dog tags when they ditched him, but he knew that wasn’t a certainty. He put on a couple of shirts, just in case they didn’t leave him with any, and did the same with his jeans, layering them up. He knew he’d look a fool, but that didn’t matter. He knew how to survive with barely anything to his name. And he had to make it back to Jim. 

Now more than ever. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Colonel Moran was drugged as planned, and then prepared for transportation via helicopter. His dog tags were placed around his neck and he was strapped to a stretcher for the time being. 

Mycroft Holmes sighed as the threat to his country was carried across the roof of the government-owned building in the middle of the night. The wind whipped inconveniently at his expensive coat, and beside him, his assistant had to stand firm against the breeze, her brown hair obscuring her eyes every so often and interrupting her text correspondence. 

“I’m sorry that you had to let him go, sir,” his PA said, over the noise of the helicopter, still typing away on her mobile phone, receiving instructions and sending out information to people in locations right across the world.

“Yes,” Mycroft agreed, clutching at his umbrella with one hand and rubbing at his forehead with the other. “An unfortunate development. But sacrifices must be made.”

It was something he had learned a long time ago. Unsavoury deals had to be struck with the most despicable of men for the good of Her Majesty’s empire. But it continued to rile him that he was required to form these unfortunate contracts. With any luck, it would get him another promotion to a senior level, though, so all was not lost.

Together, he and his assistant watched the helicopter take off and disappear into the night sky. 

“Come along. I have an appointment with Baxter on Downing Street. You know how he can be.” 

“Yes, sir.”

He did not move at first. He stared up at the darkness and frowned. 

“Interesting, wouldn’t you say?” 

“In what way, sir?” the woman asked, pausing for a moment to look up from her mobile screen. 

“Soldiers. Veterans. The ones that are simply discarded after military life. Such a swift transition. Not to mention a waste. It’s a wonder more of them don’t decide to branch out.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Mycroft twirled his umbrella and began to walk, his assistant trotting alongside him. 

“Ah, well, thoughts for another day. Best not keep Baxter waiting.”

The dark-haired woman licked her lips and decided how best to break her next piece of news to her long-suffering boss. 

“Sir, there’s been news of your brother. I’m afraid he’s been using again.”

Mycroft paused and then rubbed at his temples, weary and resigned. 

“Reschedule Baxter. I’m sure he can wait.” 

“Yes, sir.”


	96. Conduit Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is reunited with Jim after ten long years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Just another reminder that I will tell you when we're at the end. We're not quite there, but almost. Very close indeed. (I'm a bit sad that it's ending.)

When Sebastian woke up, he was laying on a bed. 

His head ached like mad and his limbs felt too heavy for his body. His eyes were crusted with sleep and burned when he forced them open. 

Taking deep breaths to combat the nausea, he hauled himself into a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard. 

His dog tags were back around his neck, clinking together comfortingly as he moved. They’d given him back his identity, then. Generous of them, he supposed. Although when he felt for his jeans he realised they hadn’t returned his mobile. That wasn’t such a surprise. Most likely they’d wiped it and discarded it, or they’d attempted to hack it. 

They wouldn’t find anything useful, Seb knew. Because Jim never left any trace of where his messages came from. All they’d see was that last message from Dawn and a couple of texts from poaching ‘mates’ reminding him of times and locations.

Rubbing his head and groaning at the shot of pain that being upright caused him, Sebastian licked his lips. He needed water. Conveniently there was a jug on the bedside table and a flimsy plastic cup. That, combined with the odd smell of the place and the scuffed carpet and peeling wallpaper, meant he was in a cheap hotel. 

Not with Jim, then. Not yet. Because Jim wouldn’t house him somewhere so ‘lower class’. 

The spark of disappointment was countered in an instant when the television in the hotel room flickered to life. As he swigged his water, he raised his eyebrows attentively and watched, waited. 

“Darling, you’re in Newham,” Jim said, speaking clearly and calmly. No image appeared on the screen, although it flashed with pixels in various colours. 

“East London, although I’m sure you know that. I just so happen to be in Central London currently. Westminster, would you believe it?” 

Westminster? Where they’d grown up? Had be been there all along? 

“St James’s Park. Four in the afternoon. And, sweetheart, I don’t like to be kept waiting.” 

Then the message flickered to a close. 

Sebastian screwed up the plastic cup in his palm and lobbed it towards the waste paper bin in the corner of the hotel room. His head was still aching, his limbs screaming for sleep, but he let out a bark of a laugh, throwing back his head and flashing his teeth although nobody was there to see him. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian, freshly showered, looking the best he could in his captivity clothing, with only his dog tags and a book of fairy tales to his name, without a single pound of cash on him, made his way to Westminster. 

It was easy enough. He knew how to steal. He’d learned how as a child. Stalking through crowds his hands darted out into handbags and back pockets where wallets bulged with notes. 

With over one hundred pounds in his possession, he hailed a cab and travelled in silence to St James’s Park. He sat straight backed, military posture, in colonel mode. His only movement was that of his fingers as they drummed on his jeans. 

As the taxi drove him into the more affluent part of London, Sebastian watched the cheap fish and chip shops and grubby cars change into shining cabs, bright red busses, the shops becoming high-end, pristine and shining.

He paid up, got out, and entered the park. It was three thirty. He had half an hour to try and find whereabouts Jim was waiting for him. St James’s was made of fifty seven acres, and full to the brim with the usual tourists. Jim could have been anywhere. He could have been disguised. Sebastian resolved to keep his eyes peeled and his head down. He considered it a spotting exercise. Just like in the army.

It was a beautiful place, in the midst of the grey of London Town. Sebastian strode through the masses, hands in his pockets. He passed Buckingham Palace, passed various monuments, passed people with dark hair and pale skin that he had to look twice at. 

None of them were Jim. 

He didn’t have a watch on him. The last time he’d been able to check how he was doing had been in the taxi, and that had to have been about twenty minutes ago now. 

His chest heaved with desperation. He knew he couldn’t keep Jim waiting. Not now. Not ever again. 

Letting him down simply wasn’t an option. 

He sniffed in the cool spring air, ignored the blossom that drifted through his path, and began to sprint. He ignored the tutting people. He ignored the pigeons that fluttered at him. He tuned everything out, but his main senses. Sight and sound. 

A man with earphones in and a mobile in his hands nearly collided with him, and they both paused for a moment. Sebastian wouldn’t have stopped, but the man patted his arm and Sebastian remembered that phones had the time on them. 

“Sorry, mate,” Sebastian found himself saying, in his casual, blokey voice. The one he’d used when trying to get some of the younger lads in his regiment to behave. Apparently it worked a treat, because the man apologised as well, in true British fashion, despite it not being his fault. 

“Have you got the time? I’m really late for something.” 

The man looked down at his phone. 

“Almost four,” he said helpfully. When he saw Sebastian’s stricken face, he looked sympathetic. “Could you not call them? Tell them there’ll be a slight delay?” 

Sebastian grimaced. 

“Can’t,” he muttered, already getting ready to sprint again. He clutched at his book of fairy tales, making sure it was secure in his palm.

“You can borrow my phone!” the man suggested kindly as Sebastian began to dart off. 

“Don’t know the number!” Seb shouted back as he ran. “Cheers, mate!”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Like magic, at dead on four, Sebastian found Jim. 

He’d been pushing through crowds, swearing under his breath, frantic with the desperation not to fail, and then suddenly, as a group of Japanese tourists moved to one side to take a look at a map, he saw him.

Jim Moriarty was seated alone on a park bench, surrounded by pigeons, wearing a swanky black suit and holding a pocket book. Behind him was a grassy strip, coated in freshly bloomed bright yellow daffodils, clumped together in groups of optimism despite the chilly spring weather. 

It was like something from one of his dreams. It was so serene. So ordinary that it could only be a hallucination, surely? Was he still asleep? Was it the drugs? Was he still on the helicopter now?

Sebastian only noticed now that it had started to rain. 

The light drizzle didn’t seem to bother Jim in the slightest, and he didn’t look up as Sebastian approached tentatively, each step heavy with grief and uncertainty.

There was a song playing from his mobile phone, faintly making its way through the thick polluted atmosphere to Sebastian’s ears. Distorted by Sebastian’s own surging adrenaline, like music played through water, disturbed by the sound of his heart pumping in his ears.

It was a wartime track. Vera Lynn. 

‘We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when,  
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.’

Sebastian felt his throat constrict. Tears burned at his eyes, although he forced them away with the discipline of a soldier. His hands clenched and then softened again. A muscle in his jaw tightened and twitched. 

‘Keep smiling through, just like you, always do.  
Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away.’

Was it wrong to feel like one of those soldiers from the war? Like Edna’s Fred. Like a man that had lived through hell. Like those black and white photographs from the forties of soldiers finally returning when the war was won. Triumphant and disbelieving and distraught and finally, finally home.

It felt like a lifetime ago, the last time he’d seen Jim in the flesh. It felt like he was finally stepping out of a nightmare that had stretched out for years and years. 

‘So will you please say hello, to the folks that I know,  
Tell them I won’t be long.  
They’ll be happy to know, that as you saw me go,  
I was singing this song.’

Jim was gazing out across the lake, looking faintly interested by the progress of some gulls and ducks on the surface of the calm water. Sebastian could see his lover was clad in an expensive black coat, although his tie and white shirt were visible beneath it. Jim’s dark hair was slicked back perfectly. His forehead looked larger than ever, almost domed, but the effect was a good one. Seb thought he looked like a model from a magazine. Slender and pale and dangerous. 

He was a man. No longer the child or teenager Sebastian had known. A real grown-up. Despite everything, he’d become one of them. One of those people Jim had always sworn to despise.

‘We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when.  
But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.’ 

The song faded, and Sebastian cleared his throat, stopping a few metres away from Jim. 

The rest of the world seemed to disappear. 

The tourists scattered around were forgotten, as were the pigeons, and the daffodils. Sebastian could no longer smell the chill of the river in his nostrils and the pollution of the grey city. 

He stood with his hands by his sides. A military man. Ready for inspection.

Jim hummed to himself, and then turned his head with mild interest. 

For a second, Sebastian thought he could detect a hint of joy in those large brown orbs, now more bloodshot than Sebastian remembered them, with darker shadows beneath each eye, that Jim had tried to hide with concealer. But then the moment was gone, and Jim tilted his head to one side.

The mannerism was oddly reptilian as Jim cast his gaze over the sniper. He allowed his eyes to linger on each part of Colonel Moran, his expression impassive.

“Moran,” was the first word to leave his lips. His voice was more controlled than Sebastian remembered, cooler, and yet still drawling. The Irish accent seemed to have dulled slightly. It was less emphasised. More influenced by the city of London.

“Jim,” Sebastian responded. The voice that left his own lips surprised him. It betrayed none of his desperation or relief or elation. It was painfully military. It was where he retreated to when the emotions were too much.

And yet somehow that seemed to please the twenty six year old man perched on the London bench. He slipped his pocket book into his suit jacket, shooed away the pigeons that had been accumulating around him, brushed down his expensive coat, and finally stood. 

He was still short, Sebastian mused. Of course he was. Jim had always been small. Somehow all those video messages had allowed him to forget that detail. In the videos he’d been a presence, powerful, sinister, deranged. 

But in reality he looked about five feet eight, and still slender, although his arms appeared less skinny than they’d been at sixteen.

And he was mortal.

Painfully mortal. Just a man. A man sitting alone by the lake. Still young and handsome and flawed. 

The growth beneath his right eye was still there. His eyebrows were still pointed, still dark and dangerous and obviously plucked into submission. His skin was pale, and had the look of a person that didn’t often venture into the outside world and brave the elements. Jim had a dusting of stubble now, a shadow on his jaw and above his pink lips. It suited him.

“Walk with me?” he asked quietly, no, commanded. That was a command. Even if it was delivered as a question. 

Sebastian nodded and fell into step beside Jim, who had begun to trot along the pavement beside the water. Pigeons scattered for him, almost as if they knew who he was. 

He still walked with a confident sway to his step, Seb noticed. His own walk was influenced heavily by his military training. He wondered what they’d look like walking side by side. Then he remembered they were together again, at last, and ended up pinching both his thumbs until he recovered himself.

“Quite a city, isn’t it?” 

Sebastian swallowed, thrown by the comment. 

“Glad to be back,” he answered, because it seemed a safe thing to say. He didn’t know where they stood now, if Jim was angry with him, if he was still being punished.

Jim hummed and continued to walk, leading the pair past railings and groups of tourists and finally heading out of the park, towards a main road. They paused for a moment for the traffic to subside, and then crossed the tarmac which held an almost pinkish hue.

In front of them were three sets of steps, leading towards a monument of some sort. 

“The Duke of York Column,” Jim announced as they began the climb. He gazed up at the statue with mild distaste. Sebastian followed suit, also taking a long look at the massive column with the man on top of it. 

“Do you know the rhyme?” Jim asked. 

Seb did, but he wanted to hear Jim’s voice again, as much as he could.

“Remind me.” 

Jim smiled, although it didn’t meet his eyes. 

“Oh, the grand old Duke of York,  
 He had ten thousand men;  
 He marched them up to the top of the hill,  
 And he marched them down again.    
And when they were up, they were up,   
And when they were down, they were down,   
And when they were only half-way up,   
They were neither up nor down.”

He delivered it so mournfully that Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder if there was hidden meaning in the words.

“Where are we headed?” Seb asked as Jim led him past the monument and through another crowd of tourists and Londoners.

“I have a car waiting,” Jim informed him. 

His voice was painfully cold and distant. Sebastian ached with despair.

As Jim had said, a black vehicle was parked close-by, ready to pick the pair up. On instinct, Sebastian rushed forward to open the back door for Jim, to which his ex-lover merely raised his eyebrows and climbed in daintily. 

That was good, wasn’t it? He hadn’t snapped at him to leave him alone. 

Seb followed him and found himself in the swankiest car he could imagine. 

The interior was all leather. It was spacious, tasteful, and smelled clean and fragrant. There were champagne glasses in a compartment to one side of the seats, but Jim ignored the alcohol. He strapped himself in, tapped three times on the glass separating them from the driver, whose face was obscured, and then sat back in his seat, closing his eyes.

Sebastian glanced at Jim’s pale hand. It was placed on the leather seat beside his body. 

He ached to reach out and touch it. But could he? Was he allowed? 

“Jim,” he mumbled, his voice low and rough. 

Jim still didn’t open his eyes. He merely quirked an eyebrow just a fraction.

“Hm?” 

Seb took his chance. He allowed his calloused palm, more tanned than Jim’s own, to rest on top of Jim’s tentatively. He stroked the length of each of Jim’s fingers in turn. For a moment, Jim seemed to allow it. He purred. 

And then it was over, finished. 

Jim pulled his hand away as though burned and placed it on his lap. His message was clear. Don’t touch.

Sebastian swallowed back his pain and sniffed, nodding. Of course things weren’t the same now. It had been ten years. Ten whole years. It was naïve of him to imagine he could just return and they’d pick up where they left off.

“You’ll need to change,” Jim eventually said, after five minutes of driving in a silence Sebastian had found unbearable, but Jim seemed to regard as relaxed.

“I haven’t got anything on me,” Seb admitted. “Just the book and my tags.” 

“I know that,” Jim said impatiently. “I have something prepared for you.” 

Sebastian swallowed. 

“Right… cheers.” 

“And you’ll be needing a place to stay.” 

Sebastian’s heart seemed to drop into his stomach with shame.

“Thing is, I don’t have any cash. They took it all. I can pay back anything you lend me, but all I’ve got is what I nicked today, and that isn’t much. Paid most of it out on a cab here.”

Jim lifted his hand, a signal that meant: stop. 

“Money isn’t a problem,” he remarked, eyes glancing off into the distance as though Sebastian wasn’t his main concern. 

Sebastian didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know whether to thank Jim, or to keep his mouth shut. Already, the idea of Jim having to help him out on the money front made him feel uncomfortable. He was the one who was supposed to look after Jim. It shouldn’t have been the other way round.

Ten minutes later, the car pulled up on a busy London street. Rich men and women passed. Sebastian glanced at them through the tinted windows of their vehicle.

“Where are we?” he asked Jim, clearing his throat. 

“My home. As of today.” 

“Yeah, but where? Address-wise.”

“Conduit Street,” Jim said calmly. “It’s my newest purchase.” 

“What, the flat?” 

Jim rolled his eyes. 

“The street,” he said clearly, as though Sebastian’s question had been unbearably stupid. “It’s all mine. Not that it's common knowledge. It’s better that they don’t know. I need their trade, and there are some gorgeous little boutiques dotted around.” 

Sebastian wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not.

“So, you live here?” 

“I do now,” Jim answered. “Although I own a few properties.”

“And you’ve been in London, then?” Sebastian asked, keen to know how his search had possibly failed if Jim had been in the capital all this time. 

Jim smirked. He had worked out what Sebastian was really asking in a heartbeat. 

“I’ve been here and there,” he said airily. “Come on. It’s this one on the right.”

Jim slipped out of the car with the elegance of a man used to this mode of travel. Sebastian unfolded his long limbs awkwardly and did a quick mental perimeter check of their immediate environment. 

As the car drove off without a word, Jim led Sebastian up to one of the shops. Sebastian frowned at the name in the window. ‘Vivienne Westwood’ was written in large letters. 

“It’s memorable, isn’t it? Easier that way.” Jim commented, sensing Sebastian’s uncertainty. “Although if you wanted the exact address, it’s number forty three. No, I don’t live in the shop. Don’t gawp. The apartment is upstairs.”

Sebastian nodded as Jim let them up to the door on the left of the boutique. It was locked. The main door opened with the turn of Jim’s key, but beyond that was another door, one with an electronic keypad, not unlike the one he’d had outside his door in ‘captivity’. 

As the main street door closed behind them, the noise of the street disappeared. The place was soundproofed. 

Jim typed in a code and the second door beeped and clicked open to reveal a beautiful entrance hall. 

“What do you think?” Jim asked as he stepped inside. 

Sebastian followed, taking in the paintings on the walls, some modern and colourful, others depicting men and women from various historical periods lounging about. Seb had a suspicion that the art was more a mark of wealth and taste than something Jim had a genuine love for. 

“Yeah. It’s nice. Very you,” he said politely, wondering whether or not to take off his shoes. Jim didn’t, so he kept his own military boots on.

Jim hummed and led him up the stairs at the end of the hall. There were a few rooms down on this level, behind the boutique, but Jim apparently didn’t want to show Sebastian those. 

There was another door at the top of the stairs, with another passcode. This one had a thumb print scanner too. Jim pressed the pad of his thumb to the scanner and the door bleeped open. 

“I’ll have yours done soon,” he told Sebastian, not bothering to turn around as he addressed him. 

The room behind the door was gorgeous. It was a living area, spacious and glamourous. The sofas were tasseled and looked like something out of eighteenth century France. There were two main windows that looked out onto Conduit Street, although they were tinted, Sebastian knew, from looking up at them from the outside. Floral drapes hung in gold on each side of the windows, heavy and expensive. 

There was a fireplace, although it looked like it was more a design feature than something Jim used. There were no photographs on it, no ornaments. There was a gilded golden clock that looked like an antique in the centre, and on either side were other contraptions Sebastian didn’t know the names of. They looked antique as well. Were they supposed to be decoration? 

In easy reach of the two sofas was a small coffee table with coasters on it. There was an artistic painted bowl in the middle of the surface, and it was full of sweets. That brought a smile to Sebastian’s face. While most would have filled the object with fruit or flowers, Jim was using it to house his pick ‘n mix. 

Seb could see fizzy cola bottles, strawberry laces, gummy bears, chocolate buttons, miniature fried eggs, and apple drops.

Young Jim would have been delighted by the image of his future.

“Do you like it?” Jim asked, taking off his coat slowly, careful not to crease it. 

Seb took a look at the shelf on the wall nearest the door. It was crammed with books on space, physics, and mathematical theory.

“Yeah,” he admitted. Because he knew it was perfect for Jim. If a little bare at the moment. Although he reckoned that would change once Jim had been living there a bit longer. 

“That isn’t quite the emphatic reaction I was looking for,” Jim drawled, moving to open another door. It was just a space for coats and umbrellas, but Sebastian took a look all the same. Jim hung up his black coat and then turned to Seb again, expectant. 

“It’s beautiful,” Seb amended quickly. “But why here?” 

“Why Conduit Street of all places? Well, I wanted a nice central location. Somewhere busy. It’s easier to operate that way. Besides, like I told you, the boutiques are to die for. The Westwood downstairs is for women, but I know the people in there. They sort me out with the newest menswear. I get discounts on all the best suits.”

Sebastian licked his lips and nodded. 

“That one’s nice,” Sebastian offered, gesturing at Jim’s sharp suit. “That one of the Westwood ones?” 

“It’s McQueen,” Jim informed him. “But thank you.”

The conversation seemed to dry up. It didn’t look like it bothered Jim at all. He was lost in his own thoughts. But Sebastian was ill at ease with this new dynamic. He didn’t know where he stood with Jim, how they worked. The relationship no longer came easily. He was on edge. 

He felt out of place here, the same way he’d felt at his mother’s house when he was seventeen. Jim didn’t seem overly enthused to see him, and that only made the feeling worse. 

The fact was, clear as day, that Jim was too good for him. Far too good. He was a high-flyer. Rich. Successful. And Sebastian was just a soldier. 

“It has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a study, a fully equipped kitchen, a spare room which I’ve converted for my needs. Oh, and I own the apartment downstairs, although it won’t be a living space. It’s more for storage,” Jim continued. 

“Must’ve cost a bomb,” Seb commented, now looking at the cabinet in the corner. His attention had been drawn by a couple of ornaments on the second shelf down. They were soldiers, the lot of them. Some looked like antiques, some were made of tin. A few were simple green plastic. There was an army Action Man. Even a nutcracker dressed in military garb.

Jim didn’t comment on Sebastian’s newest discovery. He didn’t feel the need to let Sebastian know that he’d bought himself a new soldier every time he felt a surge of longing and grief for his lover. That was private. They could be simple decoration for all he knew. A joke.

“I have millions to play with. I could have bought somewhere much more extravagant. I could buy a castle,” Jim pointed out. 

He turned on the light at the wall switch, and a chandelier illuminated the room. Sebastian glanced up at it, gorgeous and gold and posh. It suited this gold, cream, and blue room. It was theatrical, just like Jim.

“Why don’t you?” Seb asked, picking up a tiny green toy soldier and turning it over in his hand. 

“Maybe I might,” Jim said thoughtfully. “One day. It all depends.” 

Sebastian put the soldier down, careful to make sure he returned it to its original position. 

“I’ll show you the rest,” Jim announced after a moment, leading Sebastian out of the living area and towards another staircase. The bedrooms were upstairs, on the very top level. 

Seb followed Jim obediently, worrying about getting mud on the laminate flooring. He was glad there wasn’t a carpet to mess up.

Jim stopped on the top floor, nodding his head at the hall with doors on either side of it. 

“Take a look,” Jim said, gesturing at the second door on the right. After a moment of hesitation, Sebastian moved past Jim and did as he was told. 

It looked like a posh hotel room. There was a kingsize bed in the centre, although it was still spacious. The walls were painted a simple cream, but there were pieces of artwork also, to give the place character. The sheets on the bed were light blue, although the duvet was thick and sumptuous. The place was pristine. Seemed brand-new. Still smelled of new paint and fragrant air-freshener. There was an air-conditioning panel on the wall by the door and shelves on the wall, which were currently bare. There was a single window that looked out onto the street, and it was covered by a navy blue blind.

“Do you like it?” Jim asked tentatively. 

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Seb agreed, trying to keep in Jim’s good books. It seemed a bit simple for Jim’s bedroom, but again he put that down to the newness of the place. 

“I decided on blue for the moment, but I suppose you can change that if it doesn’t suit you. I don’t mind what you pick, so long as you don’t choose anything cheap or tacky. I have catalogues you can take a look at.” 

Sebastian’s mouth gawped open. 

“This is mine?” 

‘Yes,” Jim said simply, unfazed by his stunned reaction. “You and I will need to remain close. It’s easier that we share an apartment. I might need you to respond to my commands instantly.” 

“Jim… I…” 

Jim glanced at Sebastian with forced detachment. 

“It’s part of your contract,” he said calmly. “You’re tied to me now. And you’ll need to remain by my side unless I give you leave. It’s better for business.” 

“You what?” 

Sebastian was frowning at him like an idiot. Which shouldn’t have made Jim’s chest ache at all. It should have irritated him beyond belief. 

“It just so happens we have a vacancy.” 

“I’ll take it,” Sebastian said instantly. 

“You don’t even know what the position is or entails,” Jim pointed out sternly. 

“If it’s working for you, I’ll do it.” 

Jim smirked. 

“How does second-in-command sound?” 

Sebastian mulled it over and nodded his head, in soldier-mode. 

“Good,” he said. 

“The previous holder of that title sadly passed away. Just this week, as luck would have it.”

Jim trailed off, and his eyes glinted with malicious amusement. 

Which meant he’d killed the last bloke. For some reason, that made Sebastian grin. 

“Suspicious circumstances?” he asked, a teasing tone to his low voice. 

“Oh, no,” Jim said sweetly, feigning complete and utter theatrical innocence. “He ‘accidentally’ got himself run down by a cab on Regent Street.”

Sebastian scoffed. 

“Should have looked before he crossed the road.”

“Oh, be reasonable,” Jim said, now enjoying himself. “Ordinary people tend to let their guards down every so often.” 

There was a moment in which they locked eyes. Sebastian scoffed out his dangerous laugh, and Jim chuckled with venomous amusement. It was like old times. 

Until Jim put a stop to it. 

“You’d know,” Jim added, and the smile died on Sebastian’s face. “One misjudgment and it all comes crumbling down.”

Sebastian bristled and made an effort not to hang his head. That was a warning, a threat. 

“You’ll also be my official Chief of Staff,” Jim continued, ignoring Sebastian’s expression. “My unofficial bodyguard, and, of course, my head sniper. Although I won’t use you often in that capacity. You’re too valuable.”

“Chief of Staff?” Sebastian repeated, taking that in. “And what does that mean, exactly?” 

“I’m told you were good at commanding a regiment, until that mouse of a man decided to ruin your military career,” Jim drawled. “You’ve always been better at dealing with people than me. Besides, you’re respected. Your name is worth a fair bit on its own.” 

“It is?” 

Jim frowned. 

“Do you know how many people are currently after you?” he asked, raising his dark eyebrows. 

“No.” 

“There are plenty. All the big names. Some on our side. Some on the side of the angels. They all want you. You’re a military man, you’re corruptible, you’re intelligent, and you’re apparently the best shot Europe’s seen in a century.” 

Sebastian flushed with pride. 

“But, of course, they can’t have you. Because you’re mine.” 

His. Sebastian was his. He nodded his head in firm agreement. 

Jim glanced at him again. He let his gaze linger on Sebastian’s blue eyes and the scar that marred his still handsome-face. He looked ready to say something more, but then thought better of it. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to get settled,” Jim said quietly. “New phone is in the dresser.” 

“So I work for you now? Yeah? Officially?” 

Jim nodded. 

“I’m your boss. For the rest of my life.” 

Something about that phrasing made the hairs on Sebastian’s body stand on end. He swallowed away his concern. 

“Cheers, Jim,” he forced himself to say. “I mean, boss.” 

Jim went to move back down the stairs to the main living area, but turned at the last moment. 

“I want to take you out for dinner tonight. Are you hungry?” 

Sebastian nodded. He hadn’t eaten all day and the idea of dinner with Jim was too good to turn down. He’d have said yes even if he’d eaten ten full roast dinners before arriving at the apartment. 

“Starving,” he responded quickly, perhaps too quickly. 

If Jim noticed his eagerness, he didn’t mention it. 

“Good. I’ll reserve a table at The Dorchester.”

With that, Jim sashayed off down the stairs, leaving Sebastian standing alone in the alien environment he was now to call home.

He went first to the dresser, and opened the top drawer. The item of furniture was a sleek grey, and felt heavy and solid, nothing like what he was used to. He ran his fingers along the surface, savouring the quality.

Inside the top drawer was his new phone, as promised, the very latest model. The case was black and on the back the initial ‘M’ was engraved, in tiny italic font, tasteful but clear. Sebastian knew the ‘M’ could stand for Moran, but it was far more likely it meant Moriarty. Another mark of ownership.

Jim had also equipped the top drawer with a packet of expensive cigarettes, an ash tray, a pack of cards, a penknife (presumably for renewing the initials on his hip) with a gilded handle, a handgun, an iPod, on which Jim had already installed every Bowie track ever released, a silver lighter with a tiger engraved elaborately on the side, and finally, a small book of Shakespearean quotations. 

Sebastian sniffed away any emotion and placed his book of fairy tales in that top drawer along with his other new belongings. Jim knew him well. 

After opening the rest of the drawers and seeing them empty, presumably to be filled with whatever he might want to purchase for himself, he walked over to the large wardrobe. 

Inside were more clothes than Sebastian had ever owned in his life. There were rows of folded jeans of various colours. Navy blue, light blue, grey, black. To the left were about fifty t-shirts, in greys, blues, greens, blacks, whites and reds. Sebastian ran his fingers along them, and found the material was expensive. The labels were printed with various designer names, some of which he recognised. 

A couple, on closer examination, were more unique. They were there as fond jokes, he realised. A couple of them were Star Wars themed, with Stormtroopers on. One had a Shakespeare quotation printed across the front in Old English font. ‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;  Or close the wall up with our English dead.’ It was from Henry the Fifth. 

In the middle of the mass of clothing were three leather jackets, all black. Then there were hoodies and sweatshirts, in the style Sebastian had favoured as a teenager. They were his casualwear, then, he thought. Although even they were designer. 

To the right were suits. All hung pristinely on wooden hangers. They were mostly black, although one or two were grey. Sebastian reached out to touch those as well. They didn’t seem to relate to him in the slightest, let alone belong to him. But if Jim wanted him to wear them, then he would. 

Underneath the clothes, in separate compartments, were ties, mostly black again, and then shoes. Plenty of shoes. Smart shoes made of leather, shined and polished. Trainers, expensive makes. Several pairs of military-style boots, lace up. Those were Sebastian’s favourites. He was used to them. They were sturdy and had just the right amount of grip. 

In the remaining compartments were black socks, about twenty pairs, and boxer shorts. Calvin Klein, grey, black, and white. 

He wondered if he should change now, and what Jim would want to see him in. Probably a suit for dinner, seeing as they were going out. But there were a couple of hours before that. 

Sebastian settled on pulling on one of his new t-shirts, a plain grey one which fit him perfectly. He chose a pair of dark blue jeans to go with it, and shrugged on one of the leather jackets.

There was a mirror on the wall, at just the right height for him. Jim, as always, had paid close attention to detail. It was odd, not having to stoop. He was over six feet tall, and had grown used to leaning down to see his reflection.

The man Sebastian saw staring back at him, he didn’t immediately recognise as himself. There was the scar, for one thing. It stretched from his forehead to his cheek. He reached up and ran his fingertip over it, feeling the rough skin, the way it had healed pale and jagged.

Still, it wasn’t that bad. Could have been far worse. That particular piece of shrapnel had missed his eye, that was the main thing. Losing his vision would have been a nightmare. 

But aside from the scar, he was different. His face had changed. It had hardened somehow. His jaw was strong and angular, as it had always been, but there was a roughness to it he had never noticed. It was harsh in the same way certain animals gave off vibes of danger with marks and patterns. His own face was frightening. 

It was an odd sensation. To see himself like that. He could see the killer. He could see the soldier. He could see cold blue eyes, heavy lids, lips pressed together in a firm, grim line, indents only just appearing on either side of his eyes which the years would only deepen and darken and emphasise.

A noise startled him from his trance. 

Jim was in the doorway, watching him quietly. 

“Cheers for the clothes,” Sebastian said, turning and giving Jim his full attention, all thoughts of himself gone in an instant. 

“There are more things downstairs in storage,” Jim revealed. “I wasn’t sure what else you’d want in your room, so I decided to let you choose. You can take a look tomorrow.” 

Sebastian nodded in agreement.

Jim didn’t move. He remained standing in the doorway, peering at Sebastian as though he was a particularly interesting piece of artwork Jim wanted to take in at his leisure. 

He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket now, or his shoes. Without the sharp definition, Sebastian could see that Jim had put on weight on his upper arms, although the rest of him was relatively slender. 

“How time flies,” Jim finally said, letting the words linger in the air uncomfortably. 

“Ten years,” Seb agreed, wondering what Jim was thinking, if he was disappointed by the man he saw standing in front of him.

“You’re a different person,” Jim pointed out quietly. 

Seb swallowed. Jim seemed like a different person to him, too. Only he was the same as well. He was still eight year old Jim. It was there in the eyes. Always would be. 

“Not completely,” Sebastian argued, because he still felt devotion to Jim flowing through his veins, felt it with every breath he took.

But Jim nodded his head. Sebastian couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He’d lost the ability to do so over the years. It was either that, or Jim had grown better at concealing his emotions. Could have been both.

“You’re broken,” Jim continued, in the same soft, observational tone. 

Sebastian licked his lips. He didn’t know how to respond to that. So he straightened his posture, chin high, like he’d been taught in the army.

It seemed to please Jim. 

“Broken like me,” he elaborated, allowing a very small smile to appear on his pink lips before it disappeared once again, quick as anything. 

And then his expression changed. He was cold again. Businesslike, professional. 

“I’ve booked our table. We have a private booth. We’ll talk contracts this evening. Rules, salary, discipline.” 

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian found himself saying, on instinct. 

Jim paused, frowned, twisted his lips into a theatrical grimace, eyes narrowed. 

“You don’t call me that,” he decreed icily. “You’re not in the army anymore. It’s ‘boss’ to you, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, boss,” Sebastian agreed swiftly, keen to avoid Jim’s rage.

Jim hummed and nodded his head. 

“Entertain yourself for a few hours. I have work to do. Don’t disturb me unless you’re dying.” 

“Yes, boss.” 

Jim nodded again and strolled out of the room, muttering to himself.

The moment he was gone Sebastian flopped down on his new bed and stared up at the ceiling. It didn’t feel real yet, any of it. Not the new apartment, not the clothes, the gifts, the job offer, Jim’s new coldness towards him. 

He reached out towards the dresser and pulled out the lighter and a cigarette from the top drawer.

As he was about to light it, to calm his nerves, the phone in the top drawer beeped. 

Sebastian picked it up and took a look at the newest message, the first. 

‘No smoking in the apartment. You’ll ruin your suits.  
M x’


	97. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim takes Sebastian out to dinner at The Dorchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief mention of rape and homophobia.

Sebastian dressed in one of his new suits and armed himself with his handgun. The suit felt wrong on him, too restrictive and pompous, but Jim seemed relatively impressed by it. Well, he’d nodded at it and hadn’t complained, which for him was a practically glowing review.

He was waiting in the living room, texting away on his phone, dressed in a different suit from earlier. This one was a light grey. His tie was covered in tiny blue printed skulls and he was wearing cufflinks with the letter ‘M’ on. Jim looked gorgeous. Even just sitting there frowning at his mobile and tapping his foot impatiently. 

“Like the suit, boss,” Sebastian ventured to say. 

“Hugo Boss,” was Jim’s only response, before getting up and leading Sebastian down the stairs. 

He barely spoke to Sebastian as they left the apartment and got into one of Jim’s many cars. The driver didn’t give Sebastian a second glance.

The short journey to The Dorchester was almost completely silent. Jim hummed every so often and glared out at tourists and Londoners, but he didn’t trouble himself to talk to Seb. 

Sebastian kept thinking of things to say, ways to start a conversation, but every single time he chickened out. As it was, he didn’t know where he stood with Jim. He didn’t know how Jim felt about him. This whole situation seemed surreal, and so he simply tried his best to keep on top of it and not let Jim down by showing how out of his depth he felt. 

Jim made him feel weirdly young, despite the two years that should have set him ahead of Jim. He made him feel stupid and guilty and like a gangly fucking idiot. Jim was smart, he was handsome, he was sorted. He was rich, with an apartment in his name, a city under his control, and what was Seb? Just an old soldier. Nothing more.

Oddly, they didn’t go around the back way. Jim walked him straight through the front doors of the hotel, in plain view of everyone. Sebastian had expected them to sneak in so Jim wouldn’t have to show his face, but Jim didn’t seem to mind people getting a look at him. In fact, he preened as he passed the ordinary masses in their posh clothing, chortling and chattering. 

Sebastian hoped that maybe some of his demeanour was to do with being with him, but he knew it was far more likely Jim was just trying to show off. This was all his, after all. He’d said as much. London belonged to him now. It was his playground, the people his pawns.

A smart man in a tuxedo showed Jim and Sebastian to a side-room, away from the rest of the customers. They got a few odd looks then, although Seb suspected that was to do with the envy of the men and women in the main dining room. He knew what people with money were like. Selfish and jealous of each other mostly. Far too obsessed with shit that didn’t concern them.

The private room was incredibly lavish. It was relatively small, but decorated like some sort of palace. There were paintings on the walls, flowers everywhere, and candles lit on their table. The table had been placed in the centre of the room, right beneath the main chandelier. Sebastian thought it was a bit like dining on the Titanic. 

Seb wondered if Jim had taken some inspiration from this place when decorating Conduit Street, or if maybe that was just the posh fashion at the minute. Either way, it was a far cry from what Sebastian had grown accustomed to. Was this Jim’s life now?

He rushed forward to pull Jim’s chair out for him, which earned him an eyebrow raise as his boss settled and placed one of the fancy, folded napkins on his lap. Sebastian took the seat opposite Jim and sniffed, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the setting.

“What are you having?” Jim asked, picking up a menu and glancing at the meals. 

Sebastian took a menu as well and started to read the dishes. They were in various languages, and most of the meals on offer looked far too fancy for him. 

“Anything’ll do me,” he mumbled, looking for something simple so he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself when he ordered. Nothing French, because it would mean he’d have to do the fucking accent, and nothing he’d never tried before, because he didn’t want to waste Jim’s money. Not with the prices being as unreasonably high as they were. 

“This place does everything imaginable. Choose anything you want,” Jim said generously. 

“But the cash-“ 

“I’ll be paying you a salary soon. I’ll take it out of that if it bothers you.” 

Seb relaxed slightly. He didn’t feel so useless that way.

“I’ll have steak and chips, then.” 

Jim nodded. If he thought the choice was boring and predictable, he didn’t say so.

“No starter?” 

“I’m fine with steak.”

Sebastian glanced around them cautiously. They were surrounded by gleaming glass and romantic candles and bouquets of exotic flowers Sebastian had never seen before. Classical music floated gently and unobtrusively around the room. He didn’t recognise the tune, but he supposed Jim probably would. Jim was casually twitching his fingers in time to the mournful violins approvingly.

Seb would have been far more comfortable buying chips and smothering them with vinegar, than dining in the same place as all those posh pricks they’d seen in the bar area. He hadn’t wanted his first evening back with Jim to go like this. It was too fucking formal. It felt false. And they’d never been false when it came to each other. It was like they’d been connected at the heart, able to read each other perfectly. They didn’t need any of this pretentious shit piled on top of that. It was complicated enough as it was.

Then Sebastian looked across the table at Jim. He wasn’t the same person he’d once been, that was for sure. Was he one of them now? Was he one of those upper-class pricks?

Seb surveyed him as subtly as he could, but he got the impression Jim noticed. His boss glanced away and pretended to be interested in a nearby painting of a renaissance woman, humming faintly to himself in time to the music that drifted pleasantly around the pair of them. 

Seb didn’t want to think of Jim as one of them. No, he wasn’t one, Sebastian told himself. He’s just a chameleon. He’s playing a part. Playing a part same as I did in the military, and same as I am now.

He knew the real Jim. He was probably the only one that did or ever had.

“Have you gone off me all of a sudden?” Jim asked conversationally, glancing back at Sebastian and raising an eyebrow. 

“No,” Seb said swiftly. “I was just thinking.” 

Jim hummed again and clicked his fingers. A waitress appeared right on cue. 

“I’ll have the Thai roast chicken with mango and apple salad,” Jim drawled, barely acknowledging the ordinary person swiftly noting down his order. “No starter.”

“Wine, sir?” 

“My usual,” he said airily. 

The young woman turned to Sebastian. She looked incredibly nervous. 

Seb cleared his throat. 

“Just the steak for me, cheers. Peppercorn sauce. With chips and salad.”

“How would you like your steak done, sir?” 

“He’ll have it rare,” Jim interrupted. “Won’t you, Colonel Moran?”

Sebastian frowned but nodded. He did prefer his meat bloody, but that wasn’t the point. 

When the young woman had scurried off, Jim smirked at Sebastian. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“You just gave her my name.” 

“They know me here,” Jim explained vaguely. “They’ll get to know you too, in time.”

“Are you kidding me? Isn’t that risky?” 

“Not really,” Jim said, losing interest in the conversation and examining a shining fork for non-existent marks. 

“They could tell the government where you are,” Sebastian said lowly, leaning in slightly, not wanting to be overheard. 

The idea of the government getting their hands on Jim and subjecting him to what he’d had to deal with was sickening. Sebastian wouldn’t allow it to happen. 

“They wouldn’t dare,” Jim said easily. “The owners have been illegally evading their taxes for a while now. Oh, and they like to use me for business.” 

“You what?” 

“I bring my clients here occasionally. Very rich men and women. The Dorchester provides me with a private booth, and both my client and I tip the staff handsomely.” 

“They’re working for you?” 

“In a way.” 

Sebastian licked his lips and furrowed his brows. So all that time Jim had been avoiding him, he’d been seeing other blokes, had he?

“Who’ve you seen here then? Other than me?” he asked, his tone gruffer and more hostile than he’d intended. His time in captivity had made him that way. He’d lost his social graces. There had been no need for them while the government had kept him caged.

“Oh, Sebastian. Are you jealous?” Jim chuckled, looking deeply amused. 

“I’m supposed to be your bodyguard. I want to know who you’re having dinner with.” 

“Like I said, various clients. Nobody you need worry about.” 

“I don’t like it.” 

Jim raised his eyebrows and sighed. 

“Learn to,” he advised wisely.

There was a silence, and then the wine was brought in. Jim made the waitress have a sip from a separate glass before accepting his beverage. Sebastian was poured a glass too. He eyed it warily and then gave it a swig. He was no wine expert, but he could taste the quality of the liquid.

“Is it okay, sir?” the young girl asked Sebastian. She seemed desperate to leave their company. Occasionally she glanced at Jim with thinly veiled terror. Sebastian wondered what Jim had threatened to do to the staff if they displeased him. 

Seb nodded and she scurried off, closing the door to their private room behind her.

“Your mother hasn’t talked,” Jim said suddenly. 

Sebastian frowned and then sat forward, confused. 

“What are you on about?” 

“About the little visit we paid her all that time ago. She’s a clever woman, and loyal to you, in her own way.” 

“She still in prison?” 

“Yes. She maintains the last time she saw you was when you were taken to the hospital as a child.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He felt no affection for his mother. But they were still blood. He’d rather they hadn’t harmed her. 

“Did they torture her?” 

“No,” Jim said. “She’s a good liar. Besides, she’s playing the devastated wife. She’s been in mourning for the past decade. It’s been quite a beautiful performance. You know, if she hadn’t left you all alone as a child, I think we’d have got on famously.”

Seb sniffed and swigged at his wine. He would have preferred some whiskey, but this was good enough for him. Cost enough, judging by the glimpse he’d had of the menu.

Jim’s eyes had taken on their faraway quality. Which meant he was about to change the subject. Anticipating it, Seb waited.

“Did they hurt you much, darling?” Jim asked, right on cue. 

The pet-name surprised him. He couldn’t tell if Jim meant it sincerely or if he was taking the piss. Judging by Jim’s face, it was more likely he was trying to belittle Sebastian. 

“Darling now, is it?” Seb grunted. He was on edge already, what with the posh surroundings and the classical music floating around the pair of them. His suit felt too tight and restrictive, although Jim maintained it was perfectly fitted and cut, and Sebastian ached to be back at Conduit Street. It was the closest he had to home now, and at least it was private. He had some belongings there, a bed, and Jim’s things were everywhere, reminding him of his presence constantly.

“Fine. Did they hurt you much, Moran?” Jim said bitingly.

Sebastian instantly regretted snapping when he heard the coolness of Jim’s tone. Maybe he’d misjudged Jim’s intention? 

Still, there was no helping that now. He thought about his time in captivity, the days without food, the rawness of his throat from the lack of water. He remembered being punched and beaten and spitting out blood. He remembered having his head submerged in a bucket of water and being made to crouch in the stress position so his legs burned and his body collapsed.

“They broke my ribs, possibly my nose. The usual,” Sebastian said lowly, sniffing as though it was nothing. And it was. Nothing. 

The emotional torment had been far more painful than any of the physical abuse. The longing for Jim. The memories of Dawn and Raj and Aaron. His knowledge of the corruption of the British government and all those he’d been fighting for and alongside. 

“I told them not to maim you,” Jim fumed quietly, eyes darting across the table and fixing on Sebastian’s almost empty wine glass. He reached for the wine bottle and topped the glass up with steady hands. 

Sebastian thought he could see concern there, but he couldn’t be sure. Jim was good at hiding things now.

“Yeah, well, I’m alright,” he insisted gruffly. 

“I told them very specifically,” Jim said in the same tone, as though Sebastian hadn’t spoken. 

“Boss…”

“You were never theirs to wound. I gave them instructions. I was very clear.” 

Sebastian watched the way Jim’s face had grown twisted with cold anger. His eyes betrayed the sulkiness of his childish self being denied an extra chocolate biscuit after school, but his body was still. 

“Jim…” 

Jim raised his eyes suddenly and glared at Sebastian. 

“I think a little punishment is in order.” 

Then he smirked and reached into his pocket for his mobile phone. It was identical to Sebastian’s own. He typed away for several moments and then placed the phone down on the table. 

Seb frowned. 

“What did you just…?”

Jim slid the phone to Sebastian. The last sent text message read: ‘Naughty, naughty, Mr Holmes. This one’s for him. M x. ‘ 

“This one?” Sebastian asked, grimacing. 

Jim chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, looking suddenly energised with mania. 

“Just a little payback for wounding my special Tiger.” 

“Yeah, but what have you done?” 

“Shopping centre. Nasty little present. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock… BOOM!” 

Sebastian licked his lips. It sounded like a terrorist plot.

“Civilians?” 

“Of course. They hate it when that happens. The families start asking questions, and it always makes the government look shoddy.”

Sebastian grabbed his refilled wine glass and took another swig. It helped him put any echoes of his former morals aside. 

“Do you have a problem with that?” Jim enquired curiously. 

“Not happy about it, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Are you shocked and appalled by my callousness? Hm?” 

Sebastian swigged his red wine yet again. It burned his throat. 

“Seen far worse. Been part of it.” 

“Oh, yes. Afghanistan. You didn’t enjoy that tour of duty very much, did you?” 

“You were watching.” 

“I always told you not to trust the ‘good guys’, didn’t I?” 

Sebastian grunted, a response that could have meant just about anything. Afghanistan had been fucking awful. They’d been out fighting Taliban, but civilians were getting slaughtered left, right, and centre. Kids were getting orphaned, homes were being destroyed, the people were terrified of both sides. They didn’t know who to trust.

The sniping, he’d got a kick out of, as always. But not the other stuff. The racism he could have done without. And the rapes. A lot of Afghan women had been hurt by soldiers from the warring groups. None of the superiors seemed to care but him. They ignored it, as though that would make it go away. True British spirit, that, Sebastian mused darkly, keep calm and carry on. Brush it all under the carpet.

“You shot a child,” Jim said quietly. 

“Yeah.” 

“Don’t look so devastated. It was armed.” 

Not armed by choice, though. It had been covered in explosives, set to walk towards the troops and blow them to bits. It had been Sebastian’s duty to get rid of the kid. He’d waited right until the last minute and been reprimanded for doing so. Apparently he should have taken the shot immediately. But it was different when it came to kids.

Sebastian hadn’t been looking devastated, at least, not to his knowledge. But Jim had always been too good at reading him.

“Thought we were here to talk business?” Seb pointed out. He didn’t want to think of that poor kid.

“Fine. If my company bores you. How much money do you want?” 

Jim’s company didn’t bore him. It did the absolute opposite. But Sebastian couldn’t think of a way to say so without sounding either pathetic or sentimental.

“Enough to live on.” 

“Ten million for your first year, then.” 

Sebastian’s jaw dropped. 

“Fucking hell.” 

“What can I say? Business is booming. Literally.”

Sebastian thought about those members of the general public out shopping, about to get blown into atoms. He’d seen bombs going off before. Well, the destruction they left behind. 

He found he didn’t care very much. Not about British citizens. 

“They say they had their best doctors see to you,” Jim continued. “The nasty government.”

“Did at the end.” 

“The end isn’t good enough.” 

Jim put away his phone, thus condemning hundreds of people to death or maiming.

“Nobody marks you but me.” 

Sebastian glanced over again. That could have been interpreted in a number of ways. Did that mean Jim still loved him? Or was he just a possession now?

“Your scar,” Jim drawled, gesturing at the mark across Sebastian’s face. 

Seb touched the scar in question. He found Jim was staring at him oddly hungrily. It was almost predatory, and Sebastian’s skin burned.

“Shrapnel,” he muttered. “Killed the lad next to me.”

“That’s boring and predictable,” Jim declared, rolling his eyes.

Boring and predictable? It had been a fucking nightmare. It was the second of his regiment to get killed by Taliban. And that grenade had very nearly killed him as well. He remembered being covered in the blood of that young bloke. The smell of it.

“It’s what happened,” Sebastian growled.

Jim looked interested by Sebastian’s snapping at him. He wasn’t used to people talking back or treating him with such respectful and adoring grouchiness.

“We’ll tell them a tiger did it,” Jim decided. “It makes a better story.”

Seb scoffed. 

“No one’s going to buy that.”

“They will.” 

Sebastian reached for a breadstick from the small bucket on the table and tried his best not to get crumbs on his new suit. 

“I’m glad you didn’t lose your eye,” Jim commented seriously.

“Join the club.” 

The side door opened and the young waitress appeared again with two plates of food. She placed them down on the table and then disappeared as soon as she was able. 

Jim seemed to approve of the quality of his meal, but he only picked at it. He chased it around the plate with his fork and rarely lifted the food to his lips.

Sebastian, on the other hand, began to tuck in right away. He hadn’t eaten a good steak in months. The chips were crisp and fat, although there weren’t as many as Sebastian would have liked, and they were stacked in pompous little piles beside his bloody steak. 

“Do you like it?” Jim asked as he watched Sebastian eat. 

“Yeah, it’s good,” Seb mumbled, trying to make sure he kept up his good manners. As it was, Jim was sitting with a napkin on his lap, and was very careful not to spoil his suit by getting a single crumb on it. “So, what exactly do you need me to do for you?” 

“I need a man on the ground.” 

“Right.” 

“I can’t afford to be dealing with the staff. I have far more important things to be getting on with. But in order to do business with me, they need to at least know that I’m trustworthy. That can only happen if they meet my representative.” 

“Me.” 

“You. How do you feel about representing me every so often?” 

“Fine,” Sebastian lied. In reality, he wasn’t a fan of small talk, but he knew he could learn. And it was a position of great trust. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

“I won’t make you meet anyone too far beneath you. But you’ll be passing on my orders for me, briefing, threatening, and advising the men and women I have in positions of power in the various sectors.” 

“What sort of sectors are we talking?” 

“Drugs, blackmail, informants, you name it.” 

Sebastian swallowed a mouthful of chips.

“And why me?” 

“Because you’re the only man I know I can trust. Completely.” 

He wanted to feel proud of that, but all he felt was guilt. It was the co-dependency again.

“In business, at least. We both know you’re not trustworthy when it comes to more personal matters.” 

And there it was. The issue they’d been skirting around all fucking day. Sebastian was mostly glad Jim had finally steered the conversation there.

“You know I did it for you,” Sebastian said earnestly. “I tried to find you. Your fucking funeral was the worst day of my-“ 

“Sebastian, this is booooring,” Jim interrupted. 

“We need to talk.” 

“I decide when we need to talk, Moran,” Jim snapped. “In fact, maybe taking you out to dinner was a bad idea in the first place. Maybe you don’t deserve the attention…” 

“I’m taking a job. You said we were coming here so you could brief me on it,” Sebastian reminded him gruffly. “I never asked to come here.”

“Well, briefing you was partly the reason,” Jim admitted. 

Which meant this was a social trip, didn’t it? Sebastian felt suddenly hopeful.

“So is this supposed to be a date, then, or what?” he ventured to ask, his tone slightly teasing. He hoped it might remind Jim of the old days, that they might slip back into their banter.

Jim’s eyes flashed dangerously. He didn’t appreciate the informal tone of voice one bit.

“You threw all that away when you left me,” he said warningly.

“You can’t just throw away that much history. You can’t. You fucking can’t,” Sebastian argued, shaking his head.

“I can.” 

“So why did you keep on sending me stuff, then? Why didn’t you just leave me the fuck alone? I thought you were dead! I thought I was going mental. I fucking well mourned you, you prick. I had to stand there at your funeral and I thought you were…thought you…you were…” 

Jim narrowed his eyes and took a bite of his chicken. He took a while swallowing it and then placed his fork back down on his plate. 

“You didn’t deserve to know I was alive for certain,” he declared. 

“I cracked up, you know that? You made me fucking crazy. I was hearing your voice. I was thinking all this… stuff…” 

Jim nodded solemnly and didn’t even attempt to deny it. 

“Well, you were paranoid to begin with. But yes. I thought you needed to feel some pain. Walk a while in my shoes, so to speak. Hm?” 

Sebastian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and instantly regretted it. He reached for his napkin and repeated the motion. 

“Why? Because you were cross with me?” 

“Because I’m mad, Moran. And unless you were mad too, you’d never have been able to see me as your equal. You’d forever be treating me like your little brother. Don’t try to deny it. You loved me once, Sebastian, but you pitied me as well. You have a hero complex. I don’t want anyone’s pity. Least of all yours.” 

“I never pitied you. It wasn’t pity. Yeah, I worried. Of course I worried. You used to do all sorts. You used to… to, hack up your arms, and run in front of moving traffic, and go missing…” 

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, because we’re both insane,” Jim said calmly, as if that settled the entire affair. 

“Wait, hold up. You’re telling me you deliberately tried to drive me mental?” 

“Tried and succeeded.” 

“Why?” Sebastian panted out, totally stunned by that explanation. 

“I didn’t want to be alone anymore,” Jim admitted, at once looking like a petulant and stubborn child. 

Sebastian had nothing to say to that. His head was reeling. Was he mad? He wasn’t, was he? 

“So this whole thing, the ten years, they were a test?” 

“I suppose so.” 

A terrible thought occurred to Sebastian, and his skin went icy cold.

“You gave me to them?” he breathed out. 

Jim must have given him over to the government. He must have leaked his location, surely? This was all part of his ‘training’. Jim had wanted him mental so he’d handed him over. 

But Jim looked gravely hurt by his words. He hid it quickly, but it had still been there, that second of pure surprise and sadness. Jim ran his pale hands over the front of his suit jacket to hide his moment of unease. It didn’t suit him to feel shocked. Usually, he could predict everything. Nothing was supposed to surprise him. Nothing at all. 

But Sebastian just had, and wounded him too. Jim hadn’t been emotionally wounded since the age of sixteen. It concerned him that Sebastian still had the ability to do that to him.

“I didn’t give you to the government,” Jim said calmly, although he could feel his eyes burning. “I don’t like people playing with my toys. I thought that much was obvious.”

“You didn’t hand me over?” 

“I tried to get you out,” Jim snapped, putting his knife and fork together, no longer hungry in the least. “I made deals, I sent messages. I tried to influence people on the inside. I attempted to hack the security system, but by the time I did they’d already hurt you.” 

Sebastian tried to backtrack, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, trying to get Jim to leave the subject alone.

“I’m not,” Jim countered, reaching for his mobile phone again and starting to text with a furious expression on his face. 

“Jim, it’s alright. I’m back. I’m in one piece.”

“They didn’t follow my orders.” 

“No?” 

“No. There were other messages, you know, once I’d found where they were holding you. But they didn’t pass them on.” 

“What sort of messages?” 

“Just songs to cheer you up. I thought you could do with the moral support.” 

Jim looked momentarily embarrassed, but again, he recovered himself in an instant. He was scared of affection, Sebastian noticed. Every time he came close to saying something that bordered on expressing love or closeness, he retreated behind his business persona.

The Boss ceased his frantic typing and glanced across the table at Sebastian. 

“But they treated you poorly?” 

“Nothing major. It was the usual.” 

“Verbal abuse along with the physical?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Sexual?” 

Sebastian thought he saw Jim’s eyes sharpen with concern. 

“No. None of that.” 

Jim nodded, relieved. 

“Tell me about the verbal abuse.”

“They called me names. It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“What did they call you?” 

“’Captain Faggot’ at one point.” 

“They were homophobic?” 

Seb nodded. 

“And… er…,” 

“What?” Jim snapped. 

“Tiger. They called me Tiger.” 

Jim’s expressive eyes bulged with fury. Once again, he began to type on his mobile phone, presumably picking up where he’d left off the last time.

“What are you doing?” Seb asked. 

“Old bones are brittle and they break.” 

Sebastian frowned. He’d had enough of Jim’s riddles by now. His brain couldn’t take any more of them.

“What?” 

“I have the parents of one of the men that ‘guarded’ your cell. I’m going to have them subjected to what you were.” 

Seb sniffed. He’d anticipated something like this happening.

“Let’s see if a couple in their seventies can recover from a broken rib each, or live for a month in their own filth,” Jim remarked nastily. 

“To be fair, it wasn’t their fault,” Seb pointed out, spearing the last chip with his fork and shoving it into his mouth. 

“Life isn’t fair,” Jim hummed. 

Sebastian knew that already. He’d known it since he was a kid. If life was fair things would have been very different.

“Why not do it to the bloke himself? I wouldn’t mind some time alone with him.”

Jim seemed to approve of the sentiment, but he shook his head. 

“Because it’s all about pressure points. Every person has them. You can torture a person far more effectively by hurting the people they love. Affection is a weakness just waiting to be exploited.” 

Jim looked suddenly quite distressed by his own words. He blinked at Sebastian, glanced down at his phone, and then pressed a button. Orders sent.

“Affection can be a strength,” Sebastian said firmly. He knew that, because it was what had kept him alive when the government had taken him in. If it hadn’t been for Jim, he would have succumbed to death ages back.

“Stop it,” Jim ordered. “Whatever you’re about to say, close that pretty mouth of yours and finish your dinner.”

“I’m not a kid.” 

“You’re twenty eight. Act like it. Man up.” 

For some reason, those words made Sebastian flare up. He felt his blood boil, his chest pound. 

“Man up? What the fuck are you on about? Man up? I went to war, Jim. I went to fucking war!” 

“You’re a coward and you ran away.” 

Sebastian grabbed his wine glass blindly and lobbed it across the room. It shattered against the wall, smearing the wallpaper with red liquid and fragments of glass. 

“Darling, please don’t do this in public,” Jim said wearily. 

“Darling? Fucking hell! You let me think you were dead, you bastard! I left for you! I could have topped myself!” 

Sebastian got to his feet in a sudden, aggressive movement, and knocked the table. The salt fell over and rolled onto the floor, also shattering. Jim didn’t blink or seem the least bit perturbed. He knew full well that Sebastian was seeing red, but he wasn’t afraid. That, in itself, was oddly comforting.

“Sit down,” he said calmly. 

“Make me,” Sebastian snarled, kicking at the table again. This time, one of the candles overturned and blew out.

“Sebastian, sit. Now.” 

Jim clicked his fingers to emphasise his command. 

Reluctantly, Seb did so, feeling like a fucking trained dog. He couldn’t disobey an order. Not after his army training, and especially not when it came from Jim.

Embarrassed, but not beaten, he sank into his chair and snarled at Jim. 

“So after all this, after ten fucking years, you were just trying to make me mental? Is that it? I was some fucking experiment. You put me through hell, Jim. What were you even playing at?” 

“Moran, stop.” 

“What the fuck, Jim?!” Sebastian growled, slamming his fist down on the table.

“Don’t play the victim,” Jim half sang, sipping at his wine. “We’re not victims. Either of us.”

“I want some fucking answers!” 

“And I wanted my boyfriend to stay,” Jim answered simply, with a shrug of complete non-concern. “Now we’re even.” 

“Even? Do you think this is some… some fucking game?” 

“Are you finished?” 

“I’m not fucking finished and you know it-“

“With dinner,” Jim clarified calmly. “I’m assuming we’re not going for dessert. Are you done?”

The change of tone momentarily calmed his rage.

“You wanted chocolate gateau,” Seb mumbled. 

“I have food at home. Are you done here?” 

“Yes,” Seb grunted begrudgingly. 

“Come on, then.” 

Jim dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and rose from the table. 

“What about that?” Sebastian asked, pointing at the smashed glass and the trail of red wine bleeding all over the carpet. 

“They’ll clear it up. Come on.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“Where do you think?” 

“The apartment.” 

“Not yet. You’re too angry. You’d ruin something. We’re going for a walk so you can let off some stream.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” 

“Are you armed?” 

Seb sighed. He was armed, with a handgun and a knife. But that was hardly enough to protect Jim with. Not if someone massive wanted to try and take him out.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But…”

“Then, no. It’s not dangerous.”

“Jim…”

“You wouldn’t let me get murdered. Not now. You’re too excited to have me back. Now. Tiger. Walk.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They stood outside together, in the cool evening. Neither of them seemed to notice the chill, although Jim stood closer to Sebastian than he usually would have. 

“What are we now?” Seb asked, after they’d stood in relative silence for about ten minutes as the traffic rushed by and tourists trotted about. 

“Employer and employee.” 

“Just that?” 

“Why? What were you expecting?” 

Sebastian sniffed. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this coldness and distance. It was breaking his heart.

“So we’re not together?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Not together,” Jim agreed. “Although you’re still mine. You belong to me.” 

“Sure thing,” he said wearily, and focussed on a taxi that was turning into the hotel car park. He needed to distract himself. 

“Do you know what’s funny about you?” Jim said conversationally.

“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.” 

“A man you didn’t even know could call you a nasty name and you’d probably mutilate his body.” 

Seb turned to his boss. 

“Yeah. Your point being?” 

“I could call you, I don’t know… a no-good, betraying, nasty, cowardly, ungrateful, worthless but for your perfect aim and reputation, liar, and you wouldn’t raise a hand to me.” 

Sebastian, wounded, took out a cigarette and his new lighter. He began to smoke, not speaking. Instead, he stared out at the traffic. He felt guilty as hell, but he found a certain peace in standing beside Jim again. Even if there were barriers between them that went beyond mere physical space.

“Not even going to tell me to fuck off, Colonel?” Jim asked. “That’s disappointing.” 

“Fuck off,” Seb mumbled, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

“Oh, come on, Sebastian. I expected more of a fight from you. This is just dull.” 

“Don’t fancy fighting with you.” 

“I think a fight between us is long overdue.” 

Maybe that was true, but right now Sebastian was tired and drained.

“Why are you still angry at me?” he asked Jim. “It’s been ten years. I did what I could to find you again.”

“You left.” 

“I was eighteen, Jim. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought you were going to kill yourself and it would be because of me.” 

“It was the wrong thing to do. You imbecile.” 

Sebastian continued to smoke. Despite it all he felt oddly comforted by the honest talk. At least Jim wasn’t hiding behind Moriarty now.

“Give me that,” Jim commanded, reaching for Sebastian’s cigarette. 

“You don’t like them.” 

“That was when I was sixteen, moron. Hand it over.” 

Seb did so obediently. 

Jim took a long, drawn-out drag to make his point and then blew smoke into Sebastian’s face. 

“There,” he said, somewhat childishly. 

Sebastian grinned. For a moment, Jim smirked back. He took another drag of smoke and stood on his tiptoes, releasing the smoke into Sebastian’s open lips. The ex-military man looked like he was hoping for a kiss. But Jim refused to make contact out of pure spite and stubbornness.

“Better?” Jim asked. 

Sebastian was grinning again, wearily. His handsome face was twisted with a crooked smirk, flashing those teeth of his. He thought he was forgiven. He thought this meant everything was fine now.

But he was wrong. 

“Love is a weakness,” Jim said quietly, handing the cigarette back to Sebastian. “You should remember that.” 

“Can’t just stop loving someone. It doesn’t work like that.” 

“I stopped years ago,” Jim said harshly, almost without thinking. “Now, come on. Home.”

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian muttered. “If that makes fuck all difference to you.” 

Jim turned and frowned. 

“Too little, too late. Come on.”


	98. Getting Used To It.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian spends his first night and morning at Conduit Street.

The first night was one of the strangest Seb had ever encountered. It felt both comforting and disconcertingly awkward at once.

Jim disappeared as soon as they got back to the apartment after dinner and then reemerged some time later clad in a pair of black silk pyjamas and wearing maroon slippers on his pale feet. He carried his laptop into the living room and sat quietly on the sofa, typing away and occasionally scowling to himself. 

He was obviously used to living alone. He muttered under his breath every so often, and even scoffed out a few derisive laughs. He barely seemed to register Sebastian’s existence.

Sebastian went to change as well, sensing it was something he was expected to do. He could hardly hang about in his suit, after all. It felt wrong being more smartly dressed than Jim. 

He put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, taking care to hang up his suit and put it away neatly. The army had made sure he always looked after his clothes, and he was used to not owning much, so the items he did have had to last him a while. Besides, he wanted to keep on Jim’s good side. Even if that meant wearing suits every fucking day for the rest of his life.

It wasn’t too late, only about ten-ish, so Sebastian returned to the living room to be with Jim. He lingered awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, until Jim snapped at him to either sit down or go to his room. Seb sank into an armchair with his book of Shakespeare quotations from Jim and his new iPod.

To Sebastian’s delight, Jim had taken the time to annotate his gift. Every so often he’d come across Jim’s spidery scrawl underneath a quote. 

 

‘Absence from those we love is self from self – a deadly banishment’.

\- A deadly banishment, indeed. M 

‘An overflow of good converts to bad.’

-The story of your life. M

‘Parting is such sweet sorrow.’

-But better than a lifetime stuck with an idiot. M

‘Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.’

\- You and I, Moran. M

‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.’

\- But it’s worth the headache to be king. M

‘Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.’

\- You always liked this one, didn’t you? Sound and fury. I remember you reading it to me. Very apt. M

‘God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.’

\- A wise man has many faces. Remember that. M

‘I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.’

-You know exactly what this one means, you liar. M

‘Having nothing, nothing can he lose.’

\- I hope this gives you your answer. M

‘Doubt that the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move his aides, Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.’

\- Understand? M

‘His unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.’

\- All about you. M

‘I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.’

-Received and understood, Colonel Moran? M

 

Sebastian read his messages from Jim with a slight frown, his heart pounding as he took in the meanings. He still clung to the hope that Jim loved him. But even he had to admit that some of the messages were grim.

Then Sebastian was distracted from his stupor as a screwed up sweet wrapper hit him on the forehead. Apparently Jim could hear the music from his earphones and he needed silence. He didn’t want a gangly alien interrupting his work, he said. And that he was already starting to regret downloading all of those Bowie songs for Sebastian.

Seb turned the music right down obediently and continued reading, but there were no other annotations, and Jim only seemed to become increasingly frustrated by his presence. At first he kept glancing over at Sebastian with oddly suspicious dark eyes, then he frowned at him and shifted in his seat. Finally, Sebastian was forced to break the silence.

“Listen, shall I just leave you to it?” Seb asked casually, trying not to feel too bad about being such a burden. He closed his book and held it protectively in his hand.

“Do what you want,” Jim said coldly. “It’s your home too.” 

Sebastian licked his lips and pulled out his earphones. 

“You need some peace and quiet. I think I’ll go up. I’ll see you in the morning, then, yeah?” 

“Unless one of us dies in our sleep,” Jim drawled. 

Sebastian really hoped that wasn’t a hint. He sniffed, nodded, and got up from the armchair. For a moment he paused, waiting for some sort of affection from Jim before he left the room, but his boss was already typing on his laptop again. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Seb woke up at two in the morning. It was unpleasant at first, because he didn’t recognise his surroundings, and there was a dark moment of unease as he tried to figure out where he was. After his time in Afghanistan, around Europe as an assassin, and in captivity, Sebastian had grown more paranoid than ever before. He had nightmares about the torture he’d endured and the men he’d seen killed. In the day, he could push those thoughts aside, but at night he had no defence against them.

The book of Shakespeare quotations on his bedside table reminded him of his true setting. It was okay. He was with Jim. Where he should be. 

The thought soothed him, and the cold sweat began to dry on his body as he sat up and leaned back against the headboard. The room was cooler than he was used to, but he’d noticed that about the whole apartment when Jim had shown him it yesterday. Jim had always preferred a cooler climate. Sebastian felt more at home in the heat of India or Afghanistan, but he wasn’t about to complain. Not when he was home at last.

His throat was dry, although his body didn’t ache the way it usually did. The bed was too pricey for that, the mattress soft and new and kind to his scarred limbs.

Deciding he quite fancied a drink of water, and keen to reacquaint himself with his new surroundings, Sebastian yawned, slipped out of bed, opened his bedroom door, and padded down the stairs as quietly as he could so as not to wake Jim. 

He needn’t have worried. He found Jim still sitting with his computer on his lap in the living room, looking as though he hadn’t once moved from the spot he’d settled in the previous night. 

The room had grown dark, but the blue-ish light from his laptop screen gave Jim’s pale face an eerie glow. 

“Boss?” 

Jim jumped, startled. 

Had he forgotten Sebastian was living with him now? Sebastian felt suddenly worried that he might be intruding, not just in the living room, but in Jim’s home. What if Jim didn’t want him around anymore? 

“What do you want?” Jim demanded, regaining his composure as though he hadn’t just jumped out of his skin. Maybe he was paranoid too, Seb mused. He supposed Jim had people out to kill him as well. 

“It’s half two in the morning,” Seb said gruffly, voice rough with sleep.

“So?” Jim responded defensively.

“So you should get some rest. You been here the whole time?” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jim snapped. “I’ve lived ten years without you. I think I know how to function without you clucking away like a mother hen.” 

Sebastian sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair. He yawned again. 

“When are you planning on having a kip?” he asked, choosing to ignore Jim’s previous comment.

“When the lanky idiot that now lives in the apartment with me fucks off to his own bedroom where he’s supposed to be.” 

“Jim…” 

“What are you even doing down here?” 

“Fancied a glass of water,” Seb admitted with a shrug. 

“Kitchen is through that door,” Jim said sternly, pointing at the door leading out of the living room. “Don’t spill anything on the carpet on your way back up. And don’t you dare disturb me.” 

“You still need to sleep.” 

“Moran-“ 

“Boss, as your right-hand man, I’m saying you need some rest. It’s a suggestion, not an order. Just trying to look out for you.” 

Jim rolled his eyes to the heavens. 

“For heaven’s sake. I’ll be about half an hour. Stop fretting and take your massive, ugly feet elsewhere.” 

Seb grinned. Jim’s tone had softened just then. It meant the world to him. 

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Jim said quickly, but not quite quickly enough to destroy Sebastian’s pleased expression. “They’re foul, just the same as they always were. Now go on. Shoo.” 

“Yeah, alright. Night, Jim.” 

Jim sulked and refused to answer. He gave as vague a hum as he could possibly muster, and left Sebastian to traipse off to the kitchen for his glass of water, and then climb the stairs once again and return to his bedroom.

In half an hour, as promised, Jim closed his laptop and trudged up the stairs as well.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

In the morning, Sebastian took a shower in his en-suite, dressed in another t-shirt and jeans combination, and then padded down to the kitchen once again. Somehow last night he hadn’t managed to fully take in the room, all shining surfaces and expensive-looking utensils despite that fact Seb was pretty sure Jim wasn’t the type to cook. 

It was all for show, he supposed. Jim had probably seen something similar in an expensive catalogue and decided to recreate it. 

He decided to go through the large fridge and see what Jim had in. Almost straight away he came to the realisation that Jim had no clue what normal food was. The fridge was full of chocolate mousse, a few bars of chocolate, tropical fruit juice loaded with artificial sweeteners, a couple of slices of cheese, and a packet of dark chocolate after-dinner mints apparently stolen from various hotels Jim had been to recently. 

No hope of bacon and eggs then, Seb mused. He’d been thinking of cooking Jim breakfast as a surprise, but he didn’t think he could serve up chocolate mousse at this hour. 

Jim emerged moments later as Sebastian still hunted for food in the large kitchen. He appeared in the kitchen doorway looking grumpy and ruffled and wearing his pair of maroon slippers. His dark eyes were half closed with exhaustion and the bags under them were almost purple.

He should have looked awful, but Seb reckoned he looked just as gorgeous as ever. Sebastian gave him a slightly guilty grin at being caught in the kitchen so early and gestured at the fridge. 

“I thought you said you had food in?” Seb asked, closing the fridge with a sigh and looking to see if Jim had a bread bin. 

“I do,” Jim protested, sounding incredibly sulky for a man of twenty six years. 

Sebastian couldn’t find a bread bin, so he opened the main cupboard only to see a packet of chocolate Pop-Tarts, more chocolate, sweets, alphabet soup, and some fancy cakes with pink and white icing on the top.

“You’ve got Pop-Tarts, chocolate, and sweets. That’s it.” 

“Your point being?” 

“Do you live off sugar now? Is that it?” 

Jim made a harrumphing noise and made for the nearest bar stool. He clambered onto it gracelessly, but Seb thought that was probably something to do with how tired he was. Jim had never been good with mornings.

“Put a Pop-Tart in the toaster for me, Moran. Since you’re closest,” he decreed in his croaky drawl. 

“Don’t you have bread?” 

Jim narrowed his eyes. 

“No. Have a Pop-Tart.” 

“I don’t like sweet stuff.” 

“Then starve for all I care.” 

With that, Jim sighed and began rubbing at his large forehead. 

Seb obediently put Jim’s breakfast in the toaster and then decided to make both he and Jim a cup of tea. Thankfully he found teabags, sugar, and milk, plus the kettle was the posh type that heated quickly.

Tea was something he could do well. Especially for Jim. He remembered exactly how he liked it. 

“You can buy food later,” Jim relented as he took his tea from Sebastian two minutes later. It was in a china cup. Seb had chosen him one with a floral design painted intricately on it. For himself he’d used the plain white boring one from the Harrods multipack Jim had bought a week previously in a sudden, sickening surge of domesticity that he was now beginning to regret.

Sebastian sat down at the island in the middle of the kitchen on one of the black bar stools. He chose the one right beside Jim. His boss was already frowning at the steam that rose from his cup of tea. 

“Get much done last night?” Seb asked conversationally. 

“Yes. Everything I needed to do.” 

“No rest for the wicked, eh?” 

Jim peered up at Sebastian’s smile and scowled. 

“Sebastian, stop trying to be domestic. It doesn’t work.” 

“You what?” Seb asked, blowing on his tea and taking a scalding sip. 

“It’s putting me on edge,” Jim insisted, drumming his fingertips on the spotless tabletop. 

“I’ve always done this. I used to sort you out whatever you wanted back when we were kids. You used to ask me to make you tea. Said I was the only one that could do it right.” 

Jim remembered that well enough. 

“Yes, well, now I’m twenty six and I don’t need you acting like my butler,” he maintained. 

“It’s only a cup of tea,” Seb protested. 

“No. It’s your entire attitude. Stop.” 

Sebastian stopped. 

Jim waited for his tea to cool before taking a tentative sip. It was perfect. Very sweet. The right colour. He was surprised that Sebastian had remembered how he took it. 

Somehow, it made him feel oddly guilty. More lenient than usual. 

“I have things in storage downstairs for you to look at,” he said after a while. 

“Don’t I have work today?” Seb asked, leaning one arm on the tabletop and looking almost disturbingly comfortable. Jim peered at the sight with mild irritation. He wasn’t quite sure why he felt that way.

“No. I’m not starting you for a week. You’ll need me to brief you a little more, and you’ll need to be introduced to your colleagues.”

“Alright,” Seb agreed amiably. 

His obedience, although pleasant usually, was now riling Jim.

“We don’t do normal working hours,” he said coldly. “Sometimes you and I will leave in the middle of the night.” 

Sebastian was unfazed by that particular requirement. 

“Been there, bought the t-shirt.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The army. Odd hours. I get that. I can handle it.” 

Seb got up as Jim’s breakfast popped out of the toaster. He put it on a small plate and located a fork for him. Jim watched him once again, trying to understand the twisting pain in his gut it gave him to do so. 

“Here you go,” he said, sliding it to Jim, who took it greedily and began to tuck in. 

Sebastian swigged at his tea and watched Jim eat. His hair was fluffy and sticking up at all angles, which meant he hadn’t bothered to comb it before he came down from his room. That was a good sign, Seb reckoned. It meant familiarity, because in Sebastian’s memory, Jim didn’t generally like people to see him when he’d just woken up. 

“So what about you? You got anything on today?” Seb asked. 

“I have a meeting later,” Jim said vaguely. “Potential client.”

“Thought you didn’t show your face much?” 

“I won’t be. It’s a video call. Besides, I could have the client killed the moment I thought they might be backpedalling.” 

“Killed many people so far?” Seb asked with interest. 

“Less than you,” Jim admitted with a slight shrug. “Most of the time manipulation, intimidation, and blackmail can get me what I want. I wasn’t an assassin for hire. You were killing a couple of people a month.”

“Suppose I didn’t think of them as people.” 

“Of course you didn’t. Which is wise,” Jim said approvingly, already having finished his breakfast. “They were just hits to you, weren’t they? Your ticket to being able to afford your next meal and hotel room.” 

“I took the jobs I was offered,” Sebastian said without shame. “It’s what I’m good at. My name’s already mud now. Besides, the people I went after weren’t innocent. Politicians, mostly. Other hitmen. Spies. Rich bastards with kids that wanted the inheritance to speed up and get to them. I needed the cash for travel. I was looking for you.” 

Jim chuckled and finally put his tea down. He pushed his plate and cup away and tilted his head at Sebastian. 

“Do you remember your first murder?” he asked eagerly.

“Of course.” 

“And did it feel different to the others?” 

Sebastian thought on that. 

“Yeah. It did. The first one was just karma. I’ve never felt guilty over it. We both know he had it coming to him.” 

“But you felt guilty over the others?” 

“I used to. Not anymore.” 

Jim hummed, pleased by that. 

“Good. Now, off you pop. Downstairs, third door on the right. Bring what you want up. I’ll get rid of the rest.” 

“What sort of stuff’ve you got down there?” 

“Things you might want. Shoo.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian took his time on the lower level of his and Jim’s apartment, wanting to take it all in. He ran his fingertips over the wallpaper and got the measure of the place. It was completely silent where he was standing, because of the soundproofing. He wouldn’t have known there was a designer boutique on the other side of the wall if he hadn’t seen it already. 

Having not been forbidden to do so, he decided to take a look at all three rooms on this level. It was his place now, after all, and Jim seemed to want him to make himself at home. 

The first door opened into a room that was completely empty. It was soundproofed all around the outside, and the walls and floor were covered in plastic sheeting. There was no window to let the light in, and no switch on the inside of the room although there was a bulb on the ceiling. 

It was for hostages, then, most likely. Or torture. It was similar to his cell back when the government had kept him. Intrigued, but not overly surprised, Sebastian left the room and closed the door quietly behind him. 

The second door opened onto a sort of private gym area. There was a treadmill, weights, an exercise bike, a punch bag, and a rowing machine. In the corner were a few guns mounted on the wall, handguns and rifles alike. 

This room was for him, he knew. Sebastian felt his throat tighten with gratitude, but he couldn’t bring himself to examine the guns or equipment. That was for another time. Jim wanted him to see the next room. He had an order. 

He backed out feeling shame prickling his skin. He knew he was unworthy of the gift. 

The third door on the right was the one Jim had wanted him to enter, and it was almost immediately apparent why. 

The room was full of boxes. Some were full of files, some full of books, others full of oddities Jim had bought himself but hadn’t wanted to put in the main living area. Teacups and toy soldiers and tiepins. Paintings, an antique piano, and records. 

What really caught Sebastian’s attention, though, was the orange and black tiger skin draped over a stack of boxes in the centre of the room. He approached it gingerly, touching the fur with his calloused fingers. 

“That’s her,” came a soft Irish drawl from behind him. 

Sebastian turned around and saw Jim watching from the doorway, now draped in a maroon dressing gown to match his fancy slippers. He’d brushed his hair, but hadn’t bothered to dress. 

“You serious?” 

Jim nodded. 

“Your tigress. I bought her from the poachers soon after you were taken away by the government. I thought you might like to keep her. As a souvenir.” 

Sebastian ran his palm over the fur yet again and closed his eyes, remembering when the majestic beast had been alive, protecting her young. She’d fought nobly, this one. Given as good as she got. But in the end Sebastian had come up trumps. He’d won fair and square, and now he had her skin to show for it. 

“Do you want it?” Jim asked carefully. He sounded almost tentative, like he’d forgotten how to speak to Sebastian, like he was concerned he might offend him. 

“Yes please,” Seb breathed out, opening his eyes and bringing himself back to the present. He patted the tiger skin where the head should have been, and then looked to the boxes surrounding it. 

Jim continued to watch him from the doorway with great interest. He’d collected the items in this room over a number of years. Somehow he’d always planned to live with Sebastian. He hadn’t been sure where, or when, but he’d known it would happen. And so he’d collected trinkets every so often, some for himself, but mostly for his soldier. It had kept him going during the difficult years. 

The box Sebastian opened first was full of his old books from the care home. Shakespeare editions, spy novels, army guides. The antique Le Morte d’Arthur once owned by his mother with her name still scrawled on the first page in pencil.

“I thought they would have chucked all this,” Sebastian admitted, picking up one of his old spy novels and dusting it down. He’d forgotten about these things, the relics of his childhood. Somehow they’d been swept from his memory in the pain and adrenaline of war. 

“They did,” Jim said, now stepping into the room. “After I ‘died’ Verity knew nobody would want them, so she put them in bin bags and left them for the rubbish. I had people collect them for me and keep them safe.” 

The second box Sebastian examined was full of his more personal items. His school books, his poetry, his diaries, a photograph of his late father.

“Have you read it?” Sebastian asked, picking up his diary and flicking through it briefly. 

Jim considered lying, but then decided he no longer had to. Sebastian had let him down. He owed him nothing. 

“Yes, I have,” he admitted. “It was interesting.” 

Sebastian didn’t snap at him for reading his personal journal, instead, he plonked himself gracelessly down on the ground and began to skim it. 

Eventually, with a sigh, Jim perched on a box beside him and looked over his shoulder. 

“This one’s from when I was ten,” Seb said wonderingly. “Christ.” 

“You talk about me a lot,” Jim added, peering at Sebastian’s neat block letters, the occasional misspelling that he’d crossed out with a straight line and rewritten.

“’Course I did,” Sebastian mumbled, half distracted by the words on the page. “Nothing interesting happened until you turned up. It was like they’d dropped a bomb or something.” 

Jim laughed. 

“Go on, read the bit about first meeting me.” 

Sebastian found it on the page and cleared his throat. It was difficult to get the words out at first, because all he could hear was his own childish voice in his head, back when he’d been a good kid. Innocent. 

“Dear Diary, 

Yesterday I met my new roommate. His name is Jim (although his real name is James). He’s eight, like I told you before, and Irish.

He is very funny and stroppy and he talks A LOT! He seems to like me, which is strange, because nobody else does apart from Dawn. But I think I like him too.”

Sebastian paused there. Dawn’s name sent the ghost of a gunshot through his brain. To his surprise, he felt a cool hand on his shoulder. It didn’t squeeze or pat, just sat there. It was Jim’s way of showing affection now. He swallowed hard and carried on.

“He doesn’t believe in God and Jesus and I know that’s bad, but I don’t think he means to be.

Jim is little and bossy and doesn’t like to wear socks. And he fusses a lot too. He giggles and shouts more than most people. He says he’s a bit mad but he seems alright to me. And even if he was mad, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t like him. People can’t help being mad. 

His voice is quite high and his accent is strong. It makes him sound a bit like a pixie or something. A nice one though. 

I thought because he was younger he might be stupid, but he says he’s a genius and understands things even adults can’t. He’s more clever than I am.

Tomorrow he says he wants me to give him a piggyback tour of the home, so I’ll do that probably.

I wish he was my brother. I think I’d be a good big brother if I had the chance. I’d look after him really well.

I told him about Hell and now I feel bad. I think it might scare a little boy like Jim. It would scare me if I wasn’t ten whole years old. I’m bad for telling him, aren’t I? I wish I hadn’t. But I don’t want The Devil to get him. I want him to be safe.

Got to sleep now because it’s lights out and I don’t want to get sent to the cooler again. (I have been 6 times this week so far.) 

I can hear Jim sighing and snuffling like a baby animal. I hope he is okay. I might check on him. Just in case. 

Sebastian Moran Age 10.” 

Sebastian felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. The weight of everything. Regret, remembrance. The strength of his bond with Jim as a kid reminded him of everything he’d sacrificed and lost. And what had it been for? War? Glory? Some misplaced sense of heroics?

Codependency or not, he should never have left. Never.

“Little and bossy, hm?” Jim said finally, breaking the heavy silence. He plucked the book out of Sebastian’s hand and placed it back in the box. 

Colonel Moran still refused to raise his head. He looked like he’d suffered a physical blow.

Jim did an odd thing, then. He reached out and ruffled Sebastian’s hair. 

“Chin up, soldier,” he muttered softly. It was the same phrase Dawn had used back when they were kids and Sebastian was feeling down. 

The words shocked Sebastian into looking up at Jim. His eyes were tired, Jim noticed. Tired and blue and desperate. 

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian breathed out sincerely. “I mean it. I’m fucking sorry, Jim. I messed up.” 

Jim nodded his head. It didn’t matter that Sebastian was over six feet tall and scarred all over, that he’d fought in the military and killed his fair share of men. He was still Jim’s. And he still longed for praise. 

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Jim said sweetly. “I know.” 

“Give me another chance?” Sebastian pleaded, not seeming to care that he was grovelling, what with Jim sitting on a higher level, his own large form folded up on the ground.

Jim gazed down at that stupidly handsome face, marred with the scar that had only just missed Sebastian’s blue eye. He cupped Sebastian’s stubbly cheek and pouted, shrugging his shoulders. 

“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted. “I’m not known for my mercy, Moran.” 

“You don’t have to call me that. I’m still me,” Sebastian insisted, leaning into Jim’s touch. 

“No,” Jim said with a mournful shake of his head. “You’re not you anymore. And I’m not me. You’re Colonel Moran. I’m Moriarty. There’s no such thing as love in the real world, darling, especially not ours.”


	99. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian suffers from nightmares.

It was the third time this week, and Sebastian still seemed none the wiser. In the mornings, Jim would glance curiously at him from across his cup of tea, and Seb would swiftly look away or scratch at the back of his neck. 

Sebastian had met a few clients already. He’d been introduced to Bates and Jefferson, the most high-ranking members of Jim’s organisation, after Sebastian and himself. Jim had been thrilled to witness Sebastian switch seamlessly into military-mode, no-nonsense, confident, and intimidating. When he’d spoken to the men he’d barked at them like a general, kept his posture strong and imposing. It was like watching a different man to the one Jim was now growing accustomed to seeing seated in the armchair every evening, reading Shakespeare with his earphones in, tapping his feet every now and then and looking dreadfully serious. 

Jefferson and Bates were frightened of Colonel Moran, whom Jim had previously described to them as an ice-cold killer he’d bribed out of the British military with the promise of as many consequence-free kills as his appetite demanded. The persona Jim had imagined was a warped version of Sebastian. Some traits he’d allowed to remain, but others he’d exaggerated, hardened, or merely lied about. Overall, he was very proud of his creation. He’d constructed a villain to rival Moriarty himself. The perfect henchman. 

Already the story of notorious Colonel Moran, the dishonourably discharged and debauched, and his face-off with the child-eating tigress in the Indian jungles was seeping through the London criminal circles, being repeated and exaggerated in bars, in seedy nightclubs, under bridges, in back-rooms and in boardrooms. 

Colonel Moran had been hunted by the British government, but he’d bargained his way out, some said, using his many contacts and informants. The Colonel had followed a tigress down a drain and defeated the beast with a single bullet. He had a fearsome facial scar to show for it. He had travelled the length and breadth of Europe as an assassin-for-hire. Colonel Moran had been educated at Oxford University, and come out of it with a degree, only to leave for the army, just for the pure primal thrill of killing. Moran was the best shot in Europe, possibly the world, and if he wanted you dead, the first and last you’d know about it was the bullet in your brain.

And Moriarty had selected him personally. 

Some said Colonel Moran was almost as merciless, cruel, and intelligent as The Boss (they never spoke his name out loud), and a couple claimed he was worse. That he was an animal, tamed only by The Boss, to whom he’d now sworn allegiance, and likely to be set on any man or woman that dared to fail him.

Jim was delighted by the whispers that found their way back to him. The man he’d heard described was nothing like his Sebastian, the ex-soldier that eagerly made him mugs of hot chocolate and obsessively cleaned the apartment. 

Sebastian had been less pleased by what he’d heard, but he’d taken it well, Jim thought. The betrayal of his regiment had taught him to value the opinions of ordinary people less than he had as a child. Jim also had the sneaking suspicion that Sebastian enjoyed his new nickname, the one that had been created somewhere in the underbelly of London, and had caught on like wildfire. 

The Second Most Dangerous Man In London. 

Well, it was better than Captain Faggot, at any rate.

Every night, Sebastian would stalk off to his bedroom and leave Jim to continue his work downstairs. Every night Jim would sit and ponder the strange situation they’d now found themselves in as he typed away on his laptop. And most nights, when Jim was curled up in bed in his black silk pyjamas, he would wake to hear Sebastian crying out. 

The first few times it had happened, Jim had merely sighed and ignored the sound coming from the next room. He’d known Sebastian suffered from nightmares already. His surveillance on Sebastian had told him that much. But the intensity of them hadn’t seemed to hit him until Sebastian had started sleeping in the room beside his own. 

Jim knew it was a nightmare, because Sebastian would never allow himself to show the weakness of crying out had he been fully conscious. He was far too stoic for that. 

This particular evening Sebastian was grunting something about ‘insurgents’, and making a great deal of fuss. He was obviously deeply distressed, and so, instead of closing his eyes and allowing the noise to fade out of his consciousness, Jim slid out of bed, wriggled his cold feet into his slippers, draped himself in his dressing gown, and crept down the hall to Sebastian’s bedroom. 

He pushed the door open tentatively, uncertain if he wanted to see Sebastian in such a state of weakness. Even in the darkness of the room (Sebastian slept with the lights off, unlike Jim), he could make out Sebastian’s form thrashing in his sleep, grunting and snarling and kicking the sheets away from his body, which was covered in a light sheen of sweat. 

But despite his moving legs and grimace of pain, Sebastian’s arms kept moving impulsively to his sides, straight and determined. Jim imagined that had Sebastian been upright, he would have been adopting military posture, as if for a drill or inspection of some kind. 

Jim stood in the doorway for some time, observing the scene, blinking very slowly and not saying a word. 

It took Jim at least ten minutes to make the decision to intervene. With a sigh, he padded into the bedroom, flicked on the light, and made his way over to Sebastian’s bed. 

Wary, in case Sebastian should thrash out and hit him, Jim placed his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, getting ready to leap back should he need to. 

“No…” Seb grunted. “No… no, no… I never…Sir… I swear to you…no…”

“Moran?” Jim said softly. 

“Insurgents… couldn’t have spotted them sooner… Brighton was on patrol…” 

Sebastian was currently Colonel Moran, then, in his head, at least. And he clearly thought he was still in Afghanistan. 

Jim felt an alien emotion flood his veins, and when he identified it as pity, his eyes widened with surprise. 

“Sebastian?” Jim said, a little louder this time. 

“No… no! Wasn’t my fault, sir… Kinney should’ve followed my fucking orders… no…no…”

Jim knew who Kinney was. Kinney was a young soldier from Sebastian’s regiment. The first of the regiment to fall in Afghanistan. Not the last. 

He had been in Sebastian’s charge when he’d fallen. It had been in the papers, although no names had been mentioned.

“Seb, you’re safe,” Jim found himself saying, as he shook Sebastian’s shoulder. “You’re at home. You’re not in the army now.” 

Jim moved his hand to Sebastian’s cheek and stroked a finger down it gently, relishing the feeling of the stubble, the cold sweat coating the rough skin.

Then Sebastian’s eyes shot open, stunned and blue and confused. He gasped suddenly, like a man drowning, desperate to fill his lungs with oxygen, and then sat up, glancing around the room with obvious paranoia. 

He saw Jim and registered the hand that had just dropped swiftly from his cheek. 

“J-Jim?” Sebastian panted, chest heaving. He looked deeply pained and embarrassed to see Jim standing beside him, watching him with uncharacteristically soft concern. 

“You had a nightmare,” Jim informed him bluntly.

Sebastian ran a hand through his sweaty hair and rubbed at his forehead. 

“Was I…?”

“Sweating like a pig and apparently taking part in an exorcism? Yes.” 

Sebastian’s face flushed with shame, just as it had in his childhood and adolescence whenever he thought he’d disappointed Jim in some way. 

“Sorry… Sorry, Jim… boss, I mean. Sorry… Think I’m getting sick or something. ‘M alright…” 

Jim frowned at that and briefly glanced at the tiger skin Sebastian had slung over a chair in the corner. The room was better now Sebastian was living in it. It felt friendlier, warmer somehow. The tiniest details had changed it. The pack of playing cards on the side, lined up neatly beside a biro and a notebook. His lighter sitting on the bedroom floor, where it must have been knocked from his bed. The new shelves on the wall now proudly displayed Sebastian’s three favourite guns. Jim didn’t think they were particularly impressive, but Seb had taken to cleaning them over and over again and admiring the quality.

“Stop apologising,” Jim decreed irritably, leaning down to pick up the lighter. He examined it briefly, ran his fingertip over the engraving on it, and then put it away in Sebastian’s bedside drawer. 

“Did I wake you up?” Sebastian asked roughly, only now regaining his composure. 

Jim paused for a moment. 

“No,” he lied. “I was working late.” 

“Should’ve gone to bed,” Seb said with a slight smile. “Thought you’d finished all your stuff yesterday?”

“Well, I got started on the new ‘stuff’,” Jim answered easily. “If that’s alright with you, Moran.” 

Sebastian instantly nodded. 

“Yeah, I was just…. No offence, boss. Tired. Not really with it. What time’s it?” 

Jim didn’t need to reach for Sebastian’s mobile phone and check. He knew already. 

“It’s almost half three.”

“Should get my room soundproofed,” Seb tried to joke, but it fell flat. The atmosphere was wrong. Jim was musing on something, and his thoughts were elsewhere. 

Jim hummed and then raised an eyebrow at Sebastian. 

“Are you okay now?” 

“Yeah,” Seb assured him, nodding. 

“You’re lying,” Jim said with a frown. “I can always tell when you lie.” 

“How?” 

“I wouldn’t tell you that, now, would I? Otherwise how could I win at cards?” 

Sebastian managed a grin, and this time it met his eyes. He and Jim played cards often. Chess was a no-go, because Jim was too smart to beat and he got frustrated by how easily he was able to win. Monopoly was a nightmare, seeing as Jim discarded the rules and refused to pay rent on any of his houses because apparently in real life he owned them all. Battleships had been a laugh for Seb, but Jim had grown bored of it quickly and drifted off to entertain himself. 

While he’d been in Europe, Seb had won a fair bit of his cash in card games. Yes, he’d cheated every now and then, but on the whole he liked to think he was just good at reading people. It was a skill he’d picked up having spent a childhood with Jim. 

“Go back to sleep, Moran,” Jim said softly.

Colonel Moran sniffed, and nodded. He obediently yanked his covers back over his body and lay down once again. 

Jim gazed at the sight of him. He was all long limbs and lean muscle and blue eyes. Really, he should have seemed disgusting, what with the sweat covering his body. He should have utterly repelled Jim. 

But he didn’t. 

All Jim could remember were the nights when he'd wet the bed as a traumatised child, and Sebastian had carried him down from his bunk and kept him close. Safe.

With another long, weary sigh, Jim padded around the large bed and lifted the covers on the other side. He climbed in unobtrusively and smoothed the covers over himself, feigning disinterest. 

“Jim?” Sebastian asked, turning his body and glancing at his boss as he felt the bed dip slightly with his weight. 

“I thought I told you to go to sleep?” Jim responded tiredly, curling up on the left side of the bed and closing his eyes. 

Instead of turning back to his original position, Seb twisted so that he was facing inwards and lay on his side. It was his way of being as close to him as possible without any physical contact.

Jim decided it was quite endearing. 

It was only minutes later, when Sebastian had started to snore softly, that Jim opened his eyes and watched Sebastian. He slept with his lips pressed together in a pained line, grim and solemn, eyebrows lightly furrowed. 

He still wasn’t a happy man. Not at all, Jim mused. He was a person that had learned to repress every so-called negative emotion a long while ago, and still carried the pain of each event with him.

Jim reached out and smoothed the wrinkle between his brows. Even in sleep, Sebastian’s face obeyed, and his expression seemed to soften.


	100. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Jim wake up after their first night together in ten years and have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Author's note: I know I keep saying we're near the end, but we actually are near the end. I'm not exactly sure how many chapters we have left, but in terms of plot, we are very almost there. Just want to say that I really appreciate all the support I've had on this story. It means the world to me.))

Sebastian woke up first. He yawned, opened his eyes, and then remembered he and Jim were once again sharing a bed. For the first time in ten years. 

Jim was still deep in dreams, curled up, same as always. He slept in the fetal position. Always had done. Knees drawn up to his body, back curved, making him seem even smaller and more frail than he should have been. More vulnerable than he ever was in the waking hours. 

That this was Moriarty, the leader of London’s underground crime circles and beyond, was almost laughable.

He was pale, mussed, and sleepy. He looked younger than usual, without his sharp suits to give him definition, practically swaddled in the duvet which he’d apparently stolen from Sebastian at some point in the night. 

Sebastian leaned up on one elbow and watched him. He was sighing in his slumber. Irish sighs, Seb had always called them. Breathy and nasal and slightly needy. 

Jim had made those noises as a sleeping child. When he was a kid, Seb had likened Jim to a baby animal, because he used to snuffle and sigh and whine to himself. Those noises didn’t bother Sebastian at all, in fact, they soothed him. They reminded him of days long gone now, and not likely to ever return.

Eventually, Sebastian’s need to use the bathroom won out, and he climbed carefully out of bed. He arranged his portion of the duvet over Jim, tucking it under his pale feet which were curled at the toes and poking out from beneath the blue sheets. Sebastian kissed Jim once on the forehead and then padded away to the bathroom. 

When Sebastian returned, freshly showered, teeth brushed, bladder empty, towel slung around his hips, to grab some clothes, Jim was awake and sitting up in bed looking disorientated and grumpy in an early morning type of way. 

“Are you making tea?” Jim asked the moment Sebastian entered the room. 

“Can do. Want me to put a pot on now?” Seb volunteered, forgetting all about his dripping hair and already heading to the door. 

Jim nodded and resumed his staring around the bedroom looking ever so slightly perturbed. 

Seb made two cups of tea, put plenty of sugar in Jim’s, and also put a load of chocolate biscuits on a plate for him, in case he was peckish. Breakfast was touch and go with Jim, but if there was chance he was hungry, Seb knew chocolate was the one thing he’d be most likely to accept. 

He walked carefully up the stairs with the tray in his hands, and gave a slightly guilty grin as he shouldered the bedroom door open and entered. 

Jim still hadn’t moved. He was sitting back against the headboard, with his knees drawn up to his chest. His hair was sticking up absurdly at all angles and his eyes still had a squinting sleepy quality to them that made Seb want to grin. 

“Five sugars,” Seb announced, putting the tray down on the side and handing Jim his cup of tea. He’d chosen him another patterned cup. This one had tiny crowns on it. Jim had bought it from the shop at the Tower of London, apparently. Seb had quickly found out that it was one of his favourite haunts when he was out strolling by himself, along with the South Bank, St James’s Park, and Trafalgar Square. And like a magpie, he’d often come home again clutching some trinket or another, which he’d present to Sebastian and order him to find a place for. 

At the moment, their storage room was chock-full of paintings Jim had impulse bought in an online auction, and other strange antiques Sebastian thought were a waste of Jim’s cash. Still, he supposed when your income was limitless, you didn’t have to be so selective about what you purchased. Jim was currently prone to throwing out his priceless items when he got bored of them, and Sebastian had already trained himself out of wincing when something really pricey ended up in a bin bag. 

Jim hummed his approval and accepted the cup. He examined the colour, judged it to be correct, and nodded his head primly. When Seb offered him a biscuit he declined it with a short shake of his head. 

He pointedly looked away as Sebastian yanked on a pair of boxer shorts and his jeans and folded his towel up neatly. Jim distracted himself by watching the steam rise from his cup of tea. He wondered what it was like to have Sebastian’s imagination. Sebastian would have been able to see people and shapes in the steam from his mug, but all Jim could see was a twisting, translucent mist that faded to nothing before he had a chance to think something up.

Sebastian sat down on the bed beside him a moment later with his own mug of tea. He always chose mugs, Jim noticed, rather than cups, and he held his mug firmly in his palms, apparently absorbing the scalding heat. 

They sat in silence for a while, Seb occasionally blowing on his tea and sipping at it, Jim merely glancing around and watching the steam from his cup. 

“You still snore, you know,” Jim said eventually. 

Seb smiled guiltily over his mug of tea. 

“I know. The lads in the army used to hate it.” 

“That was very dramatic of them,” Jim drawled in a croaky impersonation of his usual theatrical tones. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Suppose you got used to it a while back.” 

Jim nodded. 

“I suppose I did.”

He finally took a sip of his tea and sighed with content. Sebastian had always known how to make it exactly right. Seb grinned to himself proudly. 

Jim tutted at him for no real reason other than to ruin the sweetness of the moment. 

“Look at me, Moran,” Jim commanded tiredly. 

Seb did so. He shifted his body and stared straight at Jim. 

Jim’s eyes caught on Sebastian’s scar once again. It was where they always seemed to get stuck. They would be drawn to Sebastian’s blue eyes to start with, and then follow that jagged monstrosity back and forth until he finally slid his gaze to Sebastian’s lips and jaw. 

“Can I?” Jim asked quietly. 

Sebastian sniffed and nodded his head. He understood in an instant. 

“Yeah. You don’t have to ask.” 

“I know,” Jim agreed solemnly as he placed his tea down delicately on the table on his side of the bed. “I was being polite, seeing as you decided to make me tea this morning.” 

He reached up slowly and smoothed the pads of his pale, warm fingertips over the scar tissue on Sebastian’s face. Seb closed his eyes with bliss and noticed how strange it felt for Jim’s fingers to radiate heat. They were usually so cold, but they’d upped their temperature from holding the cup of tea. 

Sebastian’s scar felt oddly lumpy and smooth to the touch, not quite as rough as it looked. It had healed over too pale and pink for Sebastian’s tanned face. Jim imagined when that wound had been fresh, gaping wide open, blood trickling in crimson streams down Sebastian’s face. Seb would have felt for his eye, Jim supposed, after the moment of impact, in a surge of panic that it had been lost forever. 

“It must have hurt,” Jim commented quietly. 

“I was in shock,” Seb told him, eyes still closed, trying to keep his face still for Jim. “Adrenaline took over. Barely felt it at first. I just remember all this blood. Couldn’t see anything out of this eye. Thought I might be dying for a bit.” 

He added an uncomfortable laugh there, but Jim could tell the memory was distressing for him. 

“Then I remembered my brain was still ticking away and got on with it,” Seb admitted, and then he sniffed. “Like you do in the army. Pick yourself up. Always,” he finished quickly. 

Jim nodded his head. 

“It’s fairly deep,” Jim said wonderingly. “The shrapnel probably could have killed you had you been in a different position, facing a different direction. You definitely could have lost your eye.” 

“That’s what the doc said.” 

“Hm?” 

“Army doctor. They put me on a stretcher and everything. Made a massive fuss out of it. Suppose they didn’t want their best sniper losing his vision. Sent me along to this bloke. He was alright, actually. Stitched me up.” 

“While you were awake?” 

“Yeah. Used local anaesthetic. Wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Couldn’t feel a thing, and the bloke kept me talking.” 

“What about?” Jim asked, now stroking Sebastian’s cheek. Seb still hadn’t opened his eyes. 

“Rugby. He used to play or something. Don’t remember much of what he said, but he was a laugh. Saved my old mug anyway. Apparently it could have scarred a lot worse than this, but he did a good job on me.” 

Jim rolled his eyes. 

“You’re hardly disfigured.” 

“No?” 

“You know you’re not. I think it makes you look distinguished.”

Seb scoffed out a laugh.

“Well it hardly stopped the men wanting to share your bed, did it?” Jim added swiftly, uncertain if Sebastian had been mocking him or not. It was always safer to snap, he thought, so he was never left vulnerable.

Immediately, the smile disappeared from Sebastian’s face and his eyes opened. 

“You said it was alright. You said ‘have fun, Tiger,’" Seb reminded him lowly. “I never shagged anyone to start with. You know that.”

It was Jim’s turn to scoff. He pulled his hand away from Sebastian and placed it in his lap, crossing his legs. 

“You had a lot of fun, though, didn’t you? All over the place. In Europe. Asia. America...” 

“Because you said it was alright,” Sebastian repeated firmly, frowning at his ex-lover. He took an angry swig of his cold tea and tried not to grimace. 

“I hope you used protection,” Jim half-sang, using his patronising voice. 

“Of course I fucking did,” Seb snapped. “What do you take me for? When have I ever not used fucking protection?”

Jim had to concede he had a point. Sebastian had been consistently wise when it came to sex. He’d been far ahead of his years in that respect. When Jim had demanded they fuck as teenagers, Seb had always been the one to pull out a condom, no matter where they were. He remembered Sebastian’s reliable eyes as he ripped open the packet with his teeth while Jim pouted impatiently at him and tried to get him to hurry up.

“Did you enjoy them?” Jim asked with interest. Despite the casual tone, his insides were twisting painfully. 

“Yeah, I did,” Seb said defiantly, putting his mug of tea down. He was flaring up, Jim noticed, which meant he felt guilty. 

“So did I,” Jim responded seamlessly. 

That surprised Sebastian. His brows furrowed and his lips parted, blue eyes steady but distrustful. 

“You what?” he grunted. 

“They’re all dead. I had them killed when you were done.” 

Jim had thought Sebastian might rage at him for that, moral creature that he was, but instead, he broke into a grin and started to laugh. 

“Seriously?” Seb asked through his low chuckling.

Jim looked uncertain, and then smirked as well, toothy and manic. He hadn’t been expecting that reaction, but it pleased him immensely. 

“Every last one,” Jim boasted. “You should have heard them scream, Sebastian.” 

“I did,” Seb quipped. “Basher Moran Special does that to a person.” 

Then suddenly they were giggling like kids. Jim was doubled over, eyes wild with a long-lost form of glee, and Sebastian was barking out his laugh and baring his teeth. He looked insane and dangerous, beautifully so. 

“Well, they oughtn’t have touched my possession, should they?” Jim drawled, thoroughly enjoying himself. “You had permission, but they certainly didn’t.” 

Sebastian wiped his eyes, which were streaming with rare mirth. For some reason he found the idea of Jim eliminating all of his casual conquests one by one hysterically funny. It screamed of Jim. He was surprised he hadn’t considered it might happen before. 

“Now, now, Tiger,” Jim drawled, still smiling. “Don’t look so pleased. You weren’t the only one that had a little fun over the past decade.” 

That wiped the smile right off Sebastian’s face. He immediately stiffened and grew gruff. He sniffed and a muscle in his jaw tensed. 

Jim was thrilled with the reaction he’d torn out of his sniper. The unease in the man beside him was palpable.

“Does that make you jealous? Hm?” he enquired playfully. 

“You fucked other blokes?” 

“Nope,” Jim answered, popping the ‘p’.

“They fucked you?” 

Jim rolled his eyes. 

“Noooooo again.” 

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. 

“But if-“ 

“I said fun, Sebastian. Do you honestly think I trust anybody enough to stick their cock in me?” Jim suddenly snapped impatiently. He tilted his head to one side as if to emphasise Sebastian’s stupidity.

Sebastian wasn’t sure if that was meant as a compliment or not, seeing as he was the only person Jim had ever allowed to fuck him. 

“No, suppose not,” he relented, tone low and uncertain. 

Jim hummed and nodded. 

“I had a few playthings. They never fucked me. I wouldn’t let them. They mostly just sucked me off when I was bored.” 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. 

“Any good?” 

“Not as good as you, Moran,” Jim admitted honestly. “But then, I think you actually quite enjoyed it. Your incentive wasn’t a nice fat paycheck.” 

Sebastian had enjoyed it. He remembered that vividly. There had always been a certain thrill in pleasing Jim, especially in a sexual sense, when Jim could fully let go. 

“And you killed them too?” Seb asked. 

Jim nodded carelessly and waved his wrist about. 

“Obviously. I never intended to keep any of them. Although some of them were very nice to look at.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Blond hair and blue eyes,” Jim told Sebastian, giving him an odd look. “Over six feet.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a type,” Seb said with a slight curl of his lips. 

Jim considered that, taking the comment seriously. 

“No, I haven’t got a type. I have a person to whom I’ve attached all my sexual and romantic desires.” 

“Me?” 

“You.” 

Sebastian shifted on the bed, looking deeply uncomfortable. Jim could see he was rehearsing the words that were about to exit his mouth in his head. 

“But you don’t want to fuck me now,” Sebastian ventured carefully. “You don’t want us back to how we were?” 

“If I was looking for another romantic relationship, you would be my only choice. That’s obvious. You’re my perfect fit, we both know that. You’re just about the only person I trust with my body in any capacity. You’re a part of me, just as I’m a part of you.”

“But you’re not after that anymore?” Sebastian asked respectfully, ignoring the way his chest ached with distress. “A relationship, I mean?” 

Jim pushed the covers off himself and looked ready to abandon the conversation. He did that a lot, suddenly disconnected from an exchange he was no longer enjoying, and then disappeared without a word. 

“I don’t think you understand quite how dangerous love is to men like us, Moran,” Jim said swiftly, standing up and brushing down his black silk pyjamas as though they were a suit. He sniffed at himself and grimaced. “God, I stink,” he lamented, wandering over to the en-suite, apparently planning on using Sebastian’s shower instead of his own. 

Sebastian sat back against the headboard, thinking fast, his heart pounding with disappointment. He hated himself. Because he’d fucked up the best thing he’d ever had. Jim had every right to turn him down. There was no-one to blame but himself. 

“Cheers for last night, boss,” he said, just as Jim was about to disappear. 

Jim looked over his shoulder. He stared at Sebastian uncertainly and then nodded, attempting graciousness. 

“Thank you for my childhood,” Jim responded quietly. “I suppose you got that part right, even if you spoiled everything later on.”

“I wouldn’t do it again,” Seb found himself saying. “The army. If I’d known I’d lose you, I’d never have fucked off.” 

Jim smiled, an oddly sad one for him, and then raised his brows. 

“You haven’t lost me, Moran,” he consoled his right-hand man. “You’ve just fallen behind. Too far. Too far.” 

With that, he trotted off to have a shower.


	101. York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian travel to York for a meeting.

Jim and Sebastian spent the morning in York, which had been a waste of a train journey in Seb’s opinion. There hadn’t been anything much for Seb to do, and so he assumed he’d been taken along for company rather than function. It felt good to think that Jim might have actually wanted him around, but the two hour long train journey with an impatient Jim had been hell on Earth. 

After about ten minutes, Jim started twitching and fidgeting and whispering insulting comments about their fellow passengers directly into Sebastian’s ear. Twenty minutes in he was muttering to himself. After half an hour he started scribbling in his pocket book, some sort of equation Seb didn’t understand. Then the phone came out, and he furiously sent texts for a while, occasionally huffing and tutting. Seb wondered how many people were prematurely getting the chop because Jim was in a bad mood.

Towards the end of the journey Jim thought of some ingenious ways of killing the annoying pair of teenagers that were sitting behind them and talking too loudly. They were so complex and well thought-through, that Seb was half convinced Jim was actually going to carry them out. 

They’d played cards for a bit, to distract Jim, which had been a laugh, but after first three rounds, Jim found the game lost its appeal and spent the remainder of the journey winding Sebastian up for the fun of it.

Winding Sebastian up for the fun of it, meant trying to make his stoic sniper lose his cool. Jim clicked his teeth over and over, because he knew it drove Sebastian up the wall. He hummed the most irritating songs he could possibly think up. He invaded Seb’s personal space and kept on poking at him, just because he could. 

Jim didn’t quite ask ‘are we there yet?’, but it was a close thing.

Seb thought it was like travelling with a kid. 

That was until Jim’s newest game involved trying to get him hard in the middle of a packed train.

Usually, Seb was great with patience. As a sniper, he’d spent entire days on the ground waiting for a hit to stroll into range. He was fairly good at detaching himself. But having Jim deliberately trying to give him an erection on the train was a completely different story.

There was no fun in it, because Seb knew full well there’d be no shag later, and the worst part was that Sebastian kept on forgetting and thinking they were teenagers again, that they’d stumble off the train laughing and head to the nearest secluded spot to scratch the itch.

He didn’t blame Jim for them not being together now. He blamed himself. And that somehow made everything worse. It made everything fucking impossible, because there he was, still achingly in love with Jim after all those years, and yet The Boss had moved on. Seb was his plaything now. His amusement during a boring journey. 

“You wanted to be a father when you were a child, Sebastian,” Jim had told him over dinner one night. “You said you’d have liked to look after a baby. Well, consider the business my baby. It’s my life’s work, and it comes first. I would rather die than endanger it.” 

“Understood, boss,” Sebastian had said with a nod. 

It still hurt, though, even if he did understand. Because once Jim had wanted him, and Sebastian, stupid fucking idiot that he was, had headed off to war.

Jim’s hand kept creeping up Sebastian’s thigh, while the little bastard stared out of the window at the Northern scenery, pretending to be innocent. When Sebastian caught it and pushed it away, Jim only pouted and tried something else. At one point he rested his head on Sebastian’s shoulder for a bit, which was actually really pleasant, well, until Jim nuzzled at Seb’s neck and the ex-colonel shifted suddenly towards the aisle, almost tumbling out of his seat as though burned, earning himself a few odd looks from fellow passengers, and a chuckle of delight from Jim.

York was full of people with Northern accents that Jim seemed to understand far better than Sebastian, and was surrounded by attractive greenery. Seb could have got used to that, all the open space and fresh air. London was pretty oppressive to the ex-soldier. Grey, compressed, and packed full of people. There was no such thing as peace and quiet in London. It was all noise and smells and tourists.

Once they’d left the station, Seb had been dragged into a meeting with a client that had taken Jim’s interest for reasons unknown to Sebastian. All he'd had to do was play the soldier. Military posture, impassive expression, armed with a gun. Seb got the impression Jim was trying to show him off. 

Jim and Sebastian met two women right smack bang in the middle of York. To passersby, they might have looked like a pair of couples, seeing as they were all around the same age and dressed fairly casually, but there was no warmth from either party. Sebastian saw that the woman that greeted Jim had steel in her eyes, and the woman that followed her looked just about at the end of her tether. 

Seb wondered if they’d get along. They were both apparently babysitting the big guns for today.

The four of them entered a tiny café near to York Minster with flowers in the windows, and disappeared past the scattering of the general public into a back room. Sebastian was on his guard, just in case it was a trap for Jim, but Jim appeared confident and in his element. Still, Seb scanned the environment as best he could. The woman with the short hair who was obviously wearing a gun holster beneath her jeans, same as Seb, seemed to be doing the same as him, which meant they’d met on neutral ground. That was something, at least. 

Jim and the young woman in the dress, whose thick red hair was tied back in a ponytail, and had sharp hazel eyes, settled together at a table and ordered themselves tea and scones, while Sebastian and the other bodyguard stood behind their respective employers, refusing to show any emotion at all. 

Although Jim had oddly consented to a one-on-one meeting with this young woman, he’d changed his voice for the occasion. Today he favoured a soft Scottish accent, which actually quite suited him, in Seb’s opinion.

The meeting started out pleasantly enough. There was the usual small-talk, the type Sebastian knew Jim hated, but was extremely good at when he had to use it. There was slight flirting from both sides, although Seb thought that was more a power play than anything else. Jim’s voice was complimentary, but stone. The woman’s voice was similarly hard. Her Northern accent was rough and suggested a no-nonsense approach, which was a stark contrast to her slender physique and feminine appearance. 

Then they started really getting down to business. The woman standing opposite Sebastian, with cropped hair and a bored expression, seemed to zone out, but Seb was determined to try and keep up. He wasn’t just Jim’s bodyguard, after all, although that was his official capacity for the day. As his second-in-command, he thought he ought to keep abreast of what Jim was getting up to.

From what Seb could make out during the woman and Jim’s frantic haggling session, they were agreeing on some sort of business alliance. They talked prices in snappy tones, neither one of them budging much, although Sebastian noticed Jim treated this young woman with more respect than most, which meant she must have been pretty important. Not to mention Jim was showing his true face, something he did rarely, if ever. 

The meeting ended ten minutes later, when Jim had finished with his tea (having had three sips) and placed his cup daintily back on his plate. He snapped his fingers, and Sebastian handed Jim his coat. The Boss slipped it on and nodded at his new associate, before strolling out of the café through a back door, without a single word, Sebastian at his heels.

Sebastian knew better than to start questioning him immediately. They left the café and started walking down a thin back road, Precentor’s Court, or so the signs said. Presumably the pair of women had left via the front entrance. Beside them York Minster loomed, casting shadows over the immediate area. It was a massive building and reminded Sebastian of Canterbury Cathedral, which he’d lived near for a week or so when he was working as a freelance assassin. 

“Do you like it?” Jim asked, as they paused, both staring up at the impressive structure.

Sebastian squinted up at the building, getting the measure of it. He lifted a hand to shield his blue eyes from the sun and took a sniff of clean-ish air. 

“It’s not bad,” Seb agreed, nodding his head. He tucked his gun away securely in its holster and brushed down the back of Jim’s black coat out of habit. The Boss liked it to sit evenly on his shoulders, and the action was becoming a reflex now. It was one of his only opportunities to touch Jim tenderly, and Sebastian always took it.

“It’s the second largest Gothic cathedral in Northern Europe,” Jim told him, using his teacher voice. “I suppose this sort of thing suits you.” 

“You think?” Seb asked as Jim started walking again. Sebastian easily fell into step beside him.

“Very King Arthur,” Jim elaborated. “You might enjoy simplicity and comfort in the home, but I know you, Sebastian. You appreciate the Gothic.”

It was true. Sebastian nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

Jim led them through the open area in front of York Minster, and then down another side street. It was littered with cafes and boutiques, although nothing flashy. It was nothing like Conduit Street. It was far more homely than that, all winding paths and uneven surfaces. There were less people, possibly because of the chill, although this place had a lot of personality and history attached to it. Seb could almost feel it in the air.

“Are you hungry?” Jim asked as they passed another pleasant little café. 

“Not fussed, really,” Seb admitted with a shrug. He knew that when Jim had meetings he wasn’t there to relax. He was there to work. Jim might pretend to be socialising, but it wasn’t that at all. Neither of them were there for the fun of it. It was networking. Jim had only eaten a single bite of his scone out of politeness, and he’d barely touched his tea. That was considered a mark of respect, and Seb knew it took Jim a certain amount of effort to even do that.

“Are you hungry, or aren’t you? I didn’t ask if you were fussed,” Jim snapped. 

“Yeah, am a bit,” Seb admitted. 

Jim nodded and pointed at the café, calm and gracious once again.

“Good. You can have a sandwich. I need to sit down and think.” 

Sebastian opened the door, because Jim never liked to touch germy surfaces if he could help it, which rang a tiny bell to announce them, and chose a table. It was in the corner and looked clean enough for Jim. 

As Seb picked up a menu and hunted for something to eat, Jim settled back in his chair and gazed into space. Seb knew better than to distract him when he did that. He ordered himself a chicken and bacon sandwich with a coke and ordered Jim a chocolate milkshake. When it turned up at the table five minutes later, Seb tore a straw out of its packet, (lime green because he knew Jim liked that colour), put it in Jim’s drink, and slid it to him. 

Wordlessly, Jim began to sip at it. 

Content that Jim was at least absorbing some calories, Seb ate his sandwich and relaxed for a bit. He enjoyed his excursions with Jim, even if Jim stayed silent. Just being in his company improved Sebastian’s mood.

He took a look around the bright and cheerful café and thought back to the army. Living with so little had really helped him appreciate what he had, which he supposed meant Jim’s wealth was wasted on him. Unlike Jim, he wasn’t picky about his food. He’d eat just about anything. Drink most things too, although he wasn’t allowed alcohol while on duty. Sebastian knew he made an unpleasant drunk. Alcohol only seemed to enhance his temper and cut his patience short. After a heated argument with Jim a couple of weeks back during which he smashed a vase and kicked over a footstool, Jim had been forced to create the no-alcohol rule.

Jim’s right-hand man crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back casually, losing himself in the moment. It was times like this that he could pretend he and Jim were off on holiday together. He could pretend this was for fun rather than profit.

Seb could sense when Jim was ready to talk again, because his body language changed and he turned his attention to Sebastian. His eyes seemed to register his surroundings instead of ignoring them, and his face became animated once again. 

“So, who was the redhead?” Seb asked, swigging his coke.

“She’s one of the most successful drug traffickers in Europe,” Jim explained, glaring at the crumbs left on Sebastian’s plate. “Jessica Chaplain. I’ve been admiring her work for some time.” 

“Trustworthy?” 

“Obviously. To an extent. I only meet the best face to face. Well, the ones I allow to live, anyway.” 

“And now you’re helping each other out?” 

“Yes. I have clients in need of her services. She wants the use of my name and the weight it carries. We both started out at similar times, you see.” 

“Same age?” 

“She’s twenty seven,” Jim said. “She’s older then me, although younger than you. Let it never be said that I don’t encourage young talent.”

Sebastian scoffed and finished off his coke. Jim grinned back, apparently pleased with himself having made his deal. That was a relief to Sebastian, who hadn’t been keen on another two hour long train journey with a bad-tempered Jim.

“Want to have a look in any of the shops?” Seb asked. “Got anything good up here?” 

Jim shook his head. 

“We’re not here for leisure, Moran,” he reminded him. “We’re here for business. Why? Do you especially like the area?” 

Jim seemed suddenly suspicious. He glanced around them with mild concern. Seb was used to that expression by now, but he still didn’t know what the hell it meant in terms of what Jim was thinking when he displayed it.

“Just wondered,” Seb said easily. He checked his watch, a new designer number from Jim with a black leather strap. “Alright then, you ready to head to the station?” 

Jim nodded. 

“Yes. I need my study.”

Sebastian helped Jim up, put a few notes on the table to pay for their sandwich and drinks, and then held the door open for Jim as they stepped back out into the chilly wind.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

During the journey home, Jim was surprisingly well-behaved, and even chattered away to Sebastian. He had a new theory on dark matter, which he’d been thinking about for some time, apparently. Seb couldn’t make head nor tail of it, but he tried his best to keep vaguely on track. 

Jim didn’t seem to care that Sebastian didn’t understand his complex scientific theory. He talked and talked, simply glad of having someone to listen.

As soon as they got back to Conduit Street, Jim locked himself away in the study to work, and Seb decided to clear up the living room. It pissed him off that Jim kept on leaving sweet wrappers on the table, not that he ever brought it up. He thought Jim did it on purpose half the time, just to give him something to do.

When everything was in order, ready for inspection, not that there’d be one, Sebastian settled down on the main sofa with his mobile phone and started going through it. Jim had recently tried to help him use the more advanced features, but to no avail.

Sebastian wasn’t great with technology, which amused and frustrated Jim in equal measure. Jim had assumed his prowess with military equipment might have sped up the learning process, but Sebastian seemed reluctant when it came to his mobile and laptop computer. 

The apartment was pleasantly quiet for about twenty minutes, and then Jim emerged from his study looking pleased with himself. He had a sway to his step, which could only mean he’d just made a load of cash, he’d solved a logistics problem, or he’d had someone irritating killed. 

“You’re not still struggling with that phone, are you?” Jim sighed, raising an eyebrow. “It’s simple, Sebastian.”

“Didn’t need that stuff in the army,” Sebastian told Jim as he tried to work his new mobile. Jim was trying to encourage Sebastian to make use of the top-of-the-range piece of equipment, but all Seb really wanted to do with it was text and occasionally call those under his command. “Give me a book any day.” 

“You evolve, or you become extinct,” Jim declared sweetly. “You’ll stop making a fuss over nothing or I’ll chop off your toes.” 

“Need them for balance,” Seb pointed out, still typing. He didn’t want to draw attention to Jim’s cheerful mood lest he ruin it, but Jim making affectionate threats was always a good thing.

“Balance often while you’re resting on your front with a rifle in your hands, hm?” 

“No toes might slow down the getaway.” 

Jim chuckled to himself and decided to linger with his sniper for a little while. He sashayed over to Sebastian and rested his fingers on the back of the sofa. 

“Your fingers look clumsy,” Jim mused, pausing behind Sebastian and watching over his shoulder. He was used to Sebastian’s hands being perfectly steady and certain and reliable, but apparently technology wasn’t something Sebastian had a natural affinity with, because he was tentative with the buttons, and kept getting frustrated by the touch screen. 

“Yeah, well I’ve never done much texting,” Sebastian muttered defensively. “Didn’t have to when I was on your trail through Europe. Mostly people got in contact with me through other people or I just turned up. Messages can get traced.”

“Very true,” Jim agreed. He reached over Sebastian’s shoulder and pressed a button, correcting Sebastian’s mistake for him. 

“I fucking hate all this high-tech bullshit,” Seb grumbled. He wasn’t in a bad mood at all, anything but. But whenever a moment got too sweet, Jim retreated, which meant he had to keep up the banter if he could. 

“Oh, yes, of course. You’d rather live in medieval era England and fight in the Holy Wars and write sonnets.” 

“Wouldn’t mind it,” Sebastian said without heat. “Least back then they didn’t have fucking Bluetooth.” 

“The plague must have been a real downside.” 

Seb scoffed at that. He’d always enjoyed Jim’s humour, especially when it was delivered in that lazy, drawling voice of his.

Jim sighed with content and reached out his hand to stroke a portion of Sebastian’s hair, the short bit behind his ears. It was in the army style at the minute, as cut by Jim’s personal barber. Jim had wanted to see the style properly since he’d never witnessed it in person, and Sebastian had wanted something simple to keep the hair out of his eyes. 

“Aren’t soldiers supposed to adapt to change?” Jim asked.

“I’m adapting, aren’t I?” 

“I suppose you are,” Jim agreed with a nod. “I’ll tell you something, though, Sebastian. We’re about to hit a technological age like you wouldn’t believe, so you’d better get used to the ‘high-tech bullshit’.” 

“That a prediction or a fact?” Seb asked, trying not to lean into that touch too obviously.

“It’s an educated guess.”

“Don’t see why I can’t just stick to guns and proper paperwork,” Sebastian insisted. He didn’t need to say it, but he wanted the conversation to keep going, because when it stopped Jim would flit off again. 

“Because you’re my second-in-command, and you need to be at least slightly capable at some things,” Jim explained calmly.

“I know the top ten ways to torture a man, I can shoot someone a mile away, I can plan, I’m good with logistics, I can lead if I need to, I could list you every known Shakespeare play ever written…”

Jim stopped stroking Sebastian’s hair for a moment to reach for Seb’s phone and correct his latest mistake. His fingers brushed Sebastian’s as he prodded the keypad. Both Sebastian and Jim pretended it hadn’t happened, even though Jim felt a shot of something that felt like electricity through his fingertip, and Sebastian went gruff with embarrassment.

“You think you’re so exceptional, don’t you?” Jim drawled, insulting Sebastian to cover the moment. He tweaked at Sebastian’s earlobe and then withdrew his hand. 

“Best shot in Europe,” Seb pointed out, wanting to defend himself slightly. Because he knew he had some merits. He might have been here because of his past association with Jim, but he’d earned his place too. He’d been called the best sniper in the British army long before Jim had offered him accommodation.

“Slowest texter I’ve ever seen,” Jim responded easily. But there was no malice to his words at all. 

He gave the back of Sebastian’s head a flick just for the fun of it. 

“You’ll get used to it eventually,” Jim consoled his sniper. “You pick things up rather quickly. I’ve noticed that.”

“And what if I send someone a message by accident?” 

“You’re not quite that much of an idiot, Moran.”

“Because of the touch screen, I mean.” 

“Well,” Jim declared, pretending to be serious for a moment. “I suppose we’d just have to kill the recipient, wouldn’t we?” 

Sebastian laughed, then. He turned his head and caught Jim’s eyes. 

“I was impressed, on the train earlier,” Jim declared suddenly. 

Seb looked confused. 

“Why?” 

“Because you spurned my advances,” Jim announced in his most theatrical voice. His eyes were bright with something Sebastian couldn’t decipher. 

“They weren’t advances,” Sebastian pointed out. “You were testing me.”

“And how do you know they weren’t advances?” Jim demanded with an amused smirk. He tilted his head to one side. “Hm?” 

Sebastian’s smile died on his face. He swallowed gruffly. 

“Know they weren’t advances, boss, because you’re not interested in me like that.” 

Jim nodded his head.

“Good boy. You’re learning.”


	102. The Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian execute a disloyal member of staff.

“There are only two ways out of my service, Moran.”

“And they are?” 

“Death on the job, or execution.” 

Seb grinned crookedly. He liked the sound of those terms. He’d never been big on queen and country, but he understood what it was to live and die for a singular cause. The army had been training him since the age of eighteen to face his own potential death with dignity and stoicism, not that he’d been planning to kick the bucket out in a warzone. 

He’d either die in Jim’s service, or face death for his failure. It was fair. More than fair. 

It felt right, somehow. However he took his leave of the world, it was going to be tied so heavily to Jim that they’d always be bound together. Jim was going to be the one to end him. 

It was the only way Sebastian wanted to die.

They were sitting in the back of one of Jim’s best black vehicles at half five in the morning. London was growing brighter by the minute, but the air was chilly and the climate didn’t suit Sebastian one bit. Still, he wasn’t about to complain.

The boss was perched in his usual seat, on Sebastian’s left hand side, dressed impeccably in one of his newest suits. He’d had a new order in a few days ago and had pranced about the apartment trying them on one by one and showing Seb the cut and the quality. It had taken an entire afternoon and Jim had been manic at the time. Seb had been cleaning his guns in his bedroom, but Jim kept on sashaying in and out and twirling for his benefit. 

He reminded Sebastian of a kid excitedly showing off his new toys, but he kept that thought safely to himself.

Jim’s manic moods were fairly enjoyable when he had something to focus his attention on. He was a real laugh at those times. They were better than his black moods, anyway, which continued to hit him like a fucking London bus at the most unexpected of times.

“Your first face to face execution,” Jim announced. “How are you feeling?” 

“Ready and raring to go,” Sebastian answered, sounding slightly more sarcastic than he’d intended. 

Jim chewed his gum fairly cheerfully. He’d been popping those little white rectangles into his mouth all morning. Seb could smell the mint on his breath. Something about chewing them seemed to soothe Jim. 

It was odd, because when Seb saw kids on the street chewing gum, he thought they looked properly undignified, but Jim managed to make it the most elegant thing in the world.

“It’s the biggest illusion in the history of the world,” Jim declared, watching out of the window as his city passed by. “But we’re not the first to abuse it. Religion’s been doing it for centuries. Belief in a higher power. Belief in the ultimate evil. In the Devil. Twisting everything ordinary into something more. Like you, Sebastian, and your literature. It’s all science in the end, there’s always an explanation, but people like you hunt and you hunt and you poke at it until you find some deeper meaning.” 

Sebastian nodded his head placatingly. The Boss was seriously manic today, and Seb found it was best not to argue with him when he was like this. He suspected drugs were involved. Legal or illegal, Seb was yet to find out. He’d wanted to have a hunt through Jim’s bedroom to check, but he was forbidden to enter that room without Jim’s permission.

Sherlock Holmes, that skinny little kid Sebastian had once seen trotting through London with his big brother, was apparently a user now, which might have been what started The Boss giving the substances a try. Jim talked about it often, lamenting the waste of talent, although that meant nothing. Sebastian looked into Jim’s eyes sometimes and felt certain he was on something. It would have been just like him to try and challenge the unknowing Holmes prick at his own game.

Usually Seb zoned out when Sherlock Holmes came up in conversation. It saved his temper from flaring up. He didn’t like the admiration Jim showed for the stupid posh bastard. Nor did he like the way the kid had turned out. 

Sebastian had been shown a photograph by Jim one evening, and had been pretty startled by the man that scowled out of the image at him. 

Sherlock Holmes was twenty one years old now, and he was worryingly handsome. Angular, granted, and gaunt in the face, but still striking enough for Sebastian’s stomach to twist with jealousy every time he thought about him. He had dark curly hair and thin piercing blue-grey eyes, almost cat-like in their cool intensity. 

The fact he was into cocaine didn’t seem to bother Jim that much, which Seb thought was a fucking joke, because if he’d so much as gone near the substance, Jim would have thrown a fit and torn off his fingernails.

Apparently because Sherlock Holmes was a genius, Jim was happy to overlook his downfalls. 

That was a situation Seb had decided to keep his eye on. He didn’t trust the Holmes twat, not one bit. He might have been young, but he was undeniably brilliant, and Sebastian knew how attracted Jim was to brilliance, like a magpie drawn to shiny objects.

“More than men,” Jim continued thoughtfully, oblivious to Sebastian’s thoughts, playing with the words, tasting and rolling them on his tongue. “That’s what we are, Moran.”

“Yeah, boss?” Sebastian asked, just to get him talking.

Jim turned to him with a nod. He was feeling generous with his explanations today, which was always a plus.

“You and I are mortal men, are we not?” he asked Sebastian, as though posing an intriguing philosophical question. 

“Think so,” Seb agreed, tapping at his facial scar as proof. Jim seemed to approve of that gesture.

“But the moment we step into that warehouse, we’re gods,” Jim explained with wonderment.

Sebastian sniffed and shifted in his leather seat. 

“You maybe. Not me.” 

“Well, you’re more of a demigod,” Jim conceded. “But words have power. You taught me that.” 

“Doesn’t sound like one of mine.” 

“It’s not a quote. I meant your stories. Literature. You used to read me fairy tales at night.” 

Seb nodded his agreement. He’d always enjoyed that, getting to read to Jim. Jim had draped himself comfortably across his lap as he listened and seemed genuinely relaxed. It was one of the only times Seb had been able to revel in Jim’s complete and utter rapt attention.

“So I picked out all the traits I wanted,” Jim continued. Then he grinned, flashing his small white teeth. He simpered in a theatrical impersonation of a young girl and pressed a hand primly to his heart. 

“Grandma, what big teeth you have!” 

Sebastian scoffed with amusement. 

“All the better to eat you with, my dear,” Seb finished for him, trying to use Jim’s own natural emphasis, but not daring to attempt his accent. 

Jim smiled appreciatively. 

“I’ll grind your bones to make my bread,” Jim agreed. “That’s us now.” 

“Big bad villains?” 

“Exactly,” Jim said with a nod of his head. 

“So, what you’re saying is we’ve ascended our mere physical forms and we’re now technically un-killable because we exist in the imagination of the London underbelly instead of in flesh and blood?” 

“You can’t kill an idea,” Jim sang quietly, looking positively ecstatic with glee that Sebastian had caught on. But he was clever like that, Jim knew, despite his grunted short sentences and tendency to keep his thoughts to himself. It was beautiful, to him, that Sebastian was so intelligent, but that he chose not to flaunt that aspect of his personality. He was a natural listener, Jim knew, rather than a man that enjoyed the sound of his own voice. 

“We’re the monsters underneath the bed,” Jim continued to crow. “Do you know what they call me?” 

“Tell me.” 

“A spider,” Jim announced proudly. 

“Because you’ve got hairy legs, boss?” Seb teased. 

Jim slapped Sebastian lightly on the thigh, although he smirked. 

“Because they’re terrified of me and my web. I wait and I wait and I lurk in the darkness. I scuttle…” 

Hearing Jim waxing lyrical was always a laugh, but Seb couldn’t help his sarcasm creeping forth. 

“I’d say you strut rather than scuttle.” 

“Moran,” Jim said warningly, raising his eyebrows. It was alright, though. He was amused. Almost affectionate. 

Jim hummed and watched the world pass for a minute or so. There was a slight twist to his lips which could have been a smile. Seb liked to think it was, anyway.

“Do you remember the book I sent you? When you were being held by the government?” 

“’Course I do, boss,” Seb answered, sitting up slightly. “Still got it. Grimms’ Fairy Tales.” 

“And did you find the story I wanted you to read?” 

“No,” Sebastian said eagerly. “Read them all, though. Which was it?” 

“The Devil’s Sooty Brother.” 

Sebastian let out a sigh of sudden understanding. It was so fucking obvious he could have kicked himself. 

“Now you’re getting it,” Jim commented, shaking his head with a sigh. “It took you long enough.” 

The Devil’s Sooty Brother was the tale of a disbanded soldier who sold himself into the service of the Devil in exchange for food and accommodation. Recalling it now, it made perfect sense. Jim was the Devil. Sebastian, the disbanded soldier. The seven years of loyal and obedient service was the price he had to pay to reap his reward. 

Only Sebastian wasn’t here for a reward. He wanted to stick with Jim forever. Seven years wouldn’t be enough. He was Jim’s for life. Until the death.

“Of course you won’t be getting a princess at the end. That isn’t a part of our story,” Jim announced. “Not that you’d be interested in her, even if she did exist. Well, not unless she had a cock.”

Sebastian grimaced. 

“Wouldn’t be interested, cock or not,” he said firmly. He wrung his hands, which were clad in designer black leather gloves. He preferred to keep his hands bare, but Jim had ordered him to keep them on at all times. It was safer that way, he said. Less chance of DNA evidence for Jim to have to go back and clear up.

Jim surveyed Sebastian. Took in his brooding momentary darkness and slight disgust. 

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” he conceded. 

Jim allowed his eyes to trail over his sniper leisurely. Sebastian was dressed in his best today, seeing as Jim wanted him to make an impression on the man they were about to execute. He was keen to show him off, even if the witness would be dead before he could start any delicious rumours about the sniper. 

“You look good, Moran,” Jim commented, admiring his suit and black coat. 

“I look like a fucking twat,” Sebastian argued. 

Jim smiled at that. He was in a good mood, after all, and he did like to see grown-man Sebastian sulk. 

“You look like a handsome fucking twat,” Jim amended. 

The car pulled up close to the warehouse where Sebastian and Jim were to meet the ex-informant, and Jim smoothed down his trousers, calm as ever. Sebastian straightened up and cracked his knuckles. He wouldn’t be causing any physical damage, but Jim knew Sebastian liked to crack his knuckles as a form of preparation for his task.

“Are you in your big bad villain zone, Colonel Moran?” Jim asked, smirking. 

“Yes, boss.” 

“Good. Let’s go and frighten some mere mortals.”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Grantley had been dreading this meeting all week. He’d seriously considered getting his hands on some fake documents and fleeing the country, but in the end he’d given up on that idea. It was said Moriarty was in control of more than one continent now, and that he could track you down wherever you ran. 

He’d leaked some information to someone. That was his crime. At the time, he’d been drunk, and there’d also been a knife involved, held to his throat, dangerously close to his artery. Anyone would have squealed, wouldn’t they? The Boss couldn’t hold him accountable for that. Could he?

Grantley was in his late fifties, and had been involved in crime all his life. He’d gravitated towards Moriarty naturally. He was the man at the top of the food chain and anyone that wanted to enter his service was guaranteed complete immunity from the law. It was said he had the power to wipe the system, even police databases. 

It was a prospect too good for Grantley Greyjoy to pass up. 

But now, for the first time, he was starting to regret his haste to get involved with the mysterious criminal. His stomach churned and he wondered if he was going to lose control of his bowels. He’d never been a brave man, and the way this Moriarty did business frayed the nerves. He was too old for this. If he survived this ‘meeting’ he was going to pack it all in and retire.

There was the business with his wife and mistress to sort out, but that would come later. He wanted to live. That was his main concern.

The first he knew of his company was a pair of footsteps, coming from the darkness. He hadn’t expected Moriarty’s people to enter thorough one of the side entrances. It disturbed him. 

He was ready for this. As ready as he could make himself. He was wearing a suit and had combed his grey hair. Moriarty would expect that, he thought. 

But the moment he saw the first face, he knew he was done for. His heart plummeted. His body began to shake. 

He recognised the man that stalked out of the shadows.

Colonel Moran had been sent for him. Which could only mean death. 

There were two men in the warehouse with him, in his line of sight at least, because he suspected there were more men stationed out of his vision. 

Despite never having seen The Colonel before, Grantley knew him on sight. The facial scar that cut across his cheek and forehead, the terrifying blue eyes, cold and wild, almost inhuman. The set jaw, the military posture, the look of a man that had nothing to lose. 

Moriarty had sent his guard dog. And Moran was ready to tear him limb from limb with a single order. This was an execution. 

At least it was going to be quick, Grantley thought wildly, trying to stop his legs from shaking. Colonel Moran never missed a shot, or so it was said. With any luck Moriarty would want this over with sharpish. 

“Colonel,” Grantley said, putting on his best business persona, as though it might scare him. 

The man did not so much as grunt. His lip curled with disgust and his blue eyes found the small man on his left, the one Grantley had previously ignored. He’d assumed him to be one of Colonel Moran’s men. 

He shouldn’t have ignored him. 

It was only now they’d stepped out of the darkness, both of them, that Grantley caught a glimpse of those eyes. Dark and malicious and insane. 

Moriarty.

“You’re him?” Grantley breathed, his voice cracking with fear. Never in his life had his voice faltered in that way, but this was Moriarty, and things were different. 

Once you’d seen his face, you had to die. 

Colonel Moran and Moriarty himself, together, was the hand you didn’t want to be dealt. It meant certain death. There was nothing left now but to wait and pray Moriarty didn’t want him tortured.

“Oh, so now you notice little old me?” 

He was… Irish? 

He sounded like Graham bloody Norton. Only younger. More playful. 

“But I’m glad you recognised Colonel Moran, here,” Moriarty continued. “You’ve obviously heard a lot about him. It seems he’s quite stolen my thunder.”

Grantley Greyjoy could not bring himself to speak. The Boss wore a black suit and tie, sharp and clean, but the sophistication and elegance of his clothing couldn’t hide his youth. 

Everyone speculated The Boss was an elderly man. A genius, unbalanced and bitter. A mathematical-brained Ebenezer Scrooge. 

But this man was in his twenties. His face, though pale, was smooth, save for the shadow on his jaw and above his lower lip. His hair was slicked back and dark, and his eyes were sunken, with heavy lids, prominent lashes, and sharp brows. His forehead was slightly domed, although it was nothing like the way they’d all imagined the deranged old professor to appear.

He looked more like a male model than a decrepit elderly gentleman. Only he was too short for that, and seemed effeminate compared to the man beside him. 

Colonel Moran seemed to be of a similar age to his boss, although he lacked the youth in his demeanour. He held himself, as expected, like a distinguished soldier, and his expression was merciless and grim. 

They were just a pair of youngsters. How could it be that Colonel Moran and Moriarty were scarcely out of adolescence?

“So, tell me, Grantley,” The Boss demanded. “What do you know of The Colonel, here?”

It was wrapped up as a request, but Grantley knew it was an order. It was a trap, and he had no choice but to fall into it.

“Just gossip, boss…” 

“Indulge me,” Moriarty snapped. 

Grantley took a breath and wiped the sweat from his wrinkled brow.

“They say he got his scar from a tiger attack.” 

Moriarty smiled. It wasn’t a natural motion. It seemed mechanical, put-on. 

Colonel Moran, on the other hand, made no movement or reaction. He was hanging on Moriarty’s every word. It was just like they all said. He’d been trained to respond to the orders and commands of one man alone.

They’re just some camp little bloke and a soldier, Grantley told himself. Barely out of the bloody cradle. 

So why was he so afraid? 

“Yes, Grantley, it is me,” Moriarty drawled, seeming to read his mind. “You don’t look very impressed. Are you disappointed?”

Grantley didn’t answer. He had sense enough not to do so.

Moriarty began to saunter towards him. He started to circle the man, steps quick and careful on the cold, even ground. He got too close, invaded Grantley’s personal space.

“Do you think you can look down at me, old man?” he hissed. 

“No, boss,” Grantley murmured, eyes downcast. 

“I’m twenty six years old, and yet all of it is mine,” Moriarty continued, his tone getting harsher and more volatile by the second. “This entire country could melt to ashes if I wanted it to. I could click my fingers and create chaos.” 

Greyjoy kept his eyes on the ground, although he kept catching glimpses of Moriarty’s newly shined shoes. 

“I began when I was seventeen, and look where I am now. I wonder where I’ll be in another ten years, hm?”

Then very suddenly, he was breathing into Grantley’s ear, breath smelling of mint. 

“Nobody’s going to find your body, Greyjoy,” he whispered, loud enough for it to echo through the warehouse. 

“They’ll ask questions,” Grantley faltered, desperate to live. 

Moriarty chuckled, and Colonel Moran blew air out of his nostrils. Grantley thought that must have been his own version of amusement. 

“Who will?” Moriarty enquired sweetly, stepping away from him and returning to Colonel Moran’s side.

Grantley finally raised his head. 

“My family.” 

“Who?” The Boss asked, glancing briefly at Colonel Moran. The two men exchanged a look. Moriarty’s eyes seemed to glint, his lips splitting in a dramatic and malicious smile. Moran’s expression remained grim, but his lips curled up crookedly at one side.

“My-“ 

Moriarty stroked his chin, theatrically pondering something. Then suddenly he laughed. The sound was high pitched and manic. 

Colonel Moran snorted as well. 

“Oh, I’m sooooo sorry, Greyjoy,” Moriarty cooed, looking exhilarated with spite. “Didn’t I tell you? They’re dead.” 

“No…” Grantley panted. 

“Who was it now? That’s right! A wife you had holed up in Paris, a teenage son, a sister in Blackpool, and your two nieces.” 

“You can’t…” 

“All gone,” Moriarty sang, throwing out his arms in a no-can-do gesture. He shrugged his shoulders and then shook his head with feigned sympathy. 

“You can’t have…” 

“Colonel Moran, could you please confirm?” Moriarty asked in bored business tones.

The Colonel cleared his throat. 

“Second sniper team took out six hits yesterday morning in four separate locations,” Moran answered. His voice was low and rough. Unlike Moriarty, he was a Londoner. 

Grantley’s legs buckled beneath him, and he fell to his knees on the cold ground. 

“Six,” the old man gasped, staring up at Moriarty and Moran with horror. “You said six.” 

Moriarty grinned like the Cheshire Cat. 

“Well, there was your mistress here in London, too,” he explained carelessly. “But I didn’t think she technically counted as family.”

Grantley let out a sob and hung his head. 

“Well,” Moriarty said swiftly, sounding horrifically pleased with himself. “I think we’re done here, Moran.” 

Grantley Greyjoy wasn’t naïve enough to think he was going to be allowed to live. His fears were confirmed when he heard a metallic clicking noise. 

“Raise your head, Greyjoy,” Moriarty commanded. 

Shaking, Grantley did as he was told. Moriarty was smiling, and his head was tilted eerily to one side. Colonel Moran was holding a handgun. It was currently aimed right at him. 

“Nobody betrays me and lives to tell the tale,” Moriarty declared. “Any last words?” 

Grantley shook his head and stared down the barrel of the gun.

Moriarty raised his left hand, clicked his fingers, and Colonel Moran pulled the trigger. 

Grantley Greyjoy’s body slumped heavily on the warehouse floor. His head, blown wide open at the back, was spilling blood and brain tissue and fragments of skull in a sprawling dark crimson puddle about his unmoving form. His eyes were still open and terrified. 

Jim turned to Sebastian to watch his reaction. He seemed entirely unconcerned by what he’d just done. Already he was putting away his gun and waiting for further orders. 

“What a mess,” Jim sighed, tutting. He stepped daintily over the trail of blood creeping rapidly towards him and moved around the body to get a closer look. 

“Coward,” he hissed nastily, narrowing his eyes at the corpse. “I would have had him tortured if he was worth the effort.” 

With that, he turned and began to walk away, back into the shadows. Sebastian raised his eyebrows and followed, steps confident and sure. He easily avoided the blood and fell into step with Jim. 

His body was starting to blaze as it always did after shooting a person. It was the adrenaline. Life always felt flat after the rush of a kill. He chose to focus on the sound of Jim’s light footsteps to distract himself.

“I don’t expect you to act like a coward if you ever get captured, Moran,” Jim declared.

“No fear, boss, I’m not the pleading type.” 

“Neither am I,” Jim agreed with an approving nod. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text, presumably to call in the clean-up team.

Jim led Sebastian to the back of the warehouse, and Sebastian held the door open for him so he wouldn’t have to touch his surroundings. 

“You’re all riled up,” Jim commented as they stepped out into the London air. 

“’M fine, boss,” Sebastian insisted. He opened the car door for Jim, and they both climbed into the vehicle waiting for them, a different car from the one that had dropped them off.

Jim settled into his seat, but Sebastian was finding it far more difficult. He sat with his legs apart, hands together between them, back uncharacteristically hunched forward with suppressed energy, like a cat ready to spring.

“Your leg is twitching,” Jim added as the car began to carry them back through London.

“It’s the adrenaline.” 

“Do you really enjoy killing people that much?” Jim asked curiously. 

Sebastian looked surprised. 

“Don’t you?” 

Jim shook his head. 

“No. I enjoy getting rid of people who are in my way. The killing part isn’t what I look forward to. It’s the death itself.” 

Jim chuckled at Sebastian’s confused expression. 

“To think of us when we were children, Sebastian. Who’d have thought you’d be the one to get off on bloodshed?” 

“Don’t get off on it,” Sebastian insisted through gritted teeth.

“Oh, but you do. You definitely do. I’ve seen your eyes, Sebastian. They’ve gone cloudy.” 

“Leave it,” Sebastian grunted in warning. 

Jim looked delighted and licked his lips briefly. 

“So, tell me. When was it you realised it was sex you wanted after a kill and not food?” 

Sebastian raised his head. He chewed his lower lip and tried to stop his foot from twitching on the car floor. 

“In the army. Second kill.” 

“And where did you go to sort yourself out? The showers? I’m assuming there weren’t many opportunities for having a nice private wank.”

“Showers,” Sebastian agreed, nodding his head. His fingers were twitching now. He took a deep sniff of air, and found himself inhaling Jim’s expensive aftershave. That didn’t help him at all. 

“You all shared rooms, didn’t you? Must have been hell. All those sweaty young men and no time alone…” 

“Look, boss,” Sebastian said swiftly. “Can you just leave it? I can’t… I just need space right now.”

Jim chuckled and drummed his fingers on his leather seat. 

“Is my presence making everything worse?” he asked, using his sing-song voice.

“Stop it.” 

“I didn’t realise I was such a natural aphrodisiac to you, Sebastian. I’m flattered.” 

Sebastian shot Jim a glare and let his head fall into his hands. He needed something. Needed everything. His body was screaming for sensation, his mind needed distraction. His skin was burning, his legs were twitching, and he knew there was now a completely noticeable bulge in his trousers. 

“You know,” Jim hummed. “I could always help you with that…” 

His hand crept to Sebastian’s leg, but Seb grabbed it suddenly and stopped it in its tracks. 

“I’ll deal with it later,” Sebastian grunted through gritted teeth. 

Jim looked shocked, his eyes wide for a brief second before he trained his expression back into something amused and impassive. He yanked his hand away from his sniper. 

“See that you do,” he said coldly. 

He sat back, turned his body away from Sebastian, and closed his eyes. 

Jim refused to speak for the remainder of the journey.


	103. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian has gone out to let off some steam. Jim is left alone in Conduit Street.

Sebastian had been gone for two hours. Two hours and twenty minutes. Two hours and twenty six minutes. Two hours and twenty six minutes, thirty five seconds… 

Jim scowled at the antique gold clock on his desk, as though it was the fault of the timepiece that his sniper had not yet returned to him. 

Jim could easily have had him trailed. He could have hacked into the CCTV network. He could have bitten the bullet and called Sebastian. He knew Seb would respond instantly, no matter where he was or what he was doing. 

But Jim’s pride wouldn’t let him. 

It was beneath his dignity to check up on his sniper. It wouldn’t do to let him know he’d been fretting. 

For a while he worked in the living room, sitting with his laptop on the sofa, trying to sort through his arrangements and think of potential solutions to the various problems he was currently attempting to solve. Quite a few had accumulated, as per usual, and most were logistical. Getting the correct clients in contact with one another, collecting information, distributing knowledge and calling in favours. Not to mention that he now had two people in his employment trailing the Holmes brothers to update him on their movements. 

But he found he couldn’t settle. Not while Sebastian was gone. 

Where was he? Who was he with? Was he safe? Was he using the necessary precautions; fake name, fake accent, fake identification? Had he called in a car to transport him and come to his aid should he need to get away swiftly? Had he been vigilant? 

Of course he was being vigilant, Jim told himself sternly. This was Sebastian Moran. He’d evaded enough dangers already to know perfectly well how to survive in central London. Besides, Jim had other people out there, people that would defend their superior if push came to shove. They knew that Jim would have them mutilated if they refused to aid Colonel Moran in his time of need.

When Sebastian had arrived home with him from their execution, he’d disappeared to his bedroom for five minutes, before leaving Conduit Street. He’d shouted to let Jim know he was off out, but that was all the warning Jim had been given. 

And he could hardly have protested his leaving, could he?

Well, he could have. Jim could have thought up a fair few plausible excuses to keep Sebastian in the apartment for the afternoon, but somehow none had come to mind at that vital moment, and Jim had ended up humming with disinterest as Seb left.

He closed his laptop with a sigh of irritation. It was no good working when his mind wasn’t focussed on the task. He’d only make mistakes and ruin things for himself. That simply wouldn’t do. 

So Jim pushed his laptop aside and stood up. He rolled his head on his neck, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. He was no longer wearing his suit, but a designer t-shirt and a pair of more comfortable trousers, which was a relief to him. As much as he adored the silhouette he cut in his suits, he had to admit it was enjoyable to dress more casually every so often. He could see why Sebastian wore jeans and t-shirts whenever he thought he could get away with it.

Jim pointed and flexed his pale toes. He wasn’t wearing socks today, seeing as Conduit Street had under-floor heating. The nails were trimmed and neat, and he gazed down at his feet with mild satisfaction. They were far better kept than Sebastian’s large monstrosities. 

‘Jim is little and bossy and doesn’t like to wear socks’ Sebastian’s diary entry had read... 

Sebastian’s feet were truly hideous, Jim thought. Massive, with tendons showing, and hair on the toes. He’d taken a long look at them one evening when Seb had been immersed in a novel. He’d had to peer over in secret, because if Sebastian had noticed, he would have got self-conscious and covered them up.

Jim wandered across the living room to take a look at his collection of soldiers. He’d bought a new one a couple of days ago, made of tin. It was an antique, and had a little drum around its neck. Jim thought it was probably a Christmas decoration, but he couldn’t be sure. 

He picked it up and took a look at the tiny metal face. It was badly sculpted, and slightly battered. Nothing like Sebastian at all. But it still represented him somehow, and that was important. Jim had twenty soldiers on show, and another twelve, his favourites, in his bedroom. 

Glancing at the clock in the living room this time, Jim put his soldier down and decided on a change of scene. 

He went to Sebastian’s bedroom. Seeing as the whole apartment belonged to him anyway, and he was certain Sebastian wouldn’t mind him intruding. Even if he did, he could be overruled. 

The room smelled of Sebastian; his deodorant, the aftershave Jim had bought him, the scent of his gun polish, and a hint of leather. It smelled warm, too, and startlingly familiar. 

Jim sat down on Seb’s bed rather primly and sulked. No, it wasn’t sulking, Jim reasoned. He was thinking. Just thinking. 

And feeling betrayed.

His pale fingers smoothed down the blue covers of Sebastian’s bed, subconsciously getting rid of any wrinkles. Not because he cared about that, of course, but because he knew Sebastian liked things done properly. The fabric was soothing against his fingertips. It was what he felt against his skin on the nights he slept in the bed with Sebastian. 

He glanced at Sebastian’s alarm clock and scowled all over again. It was high time Sebastian returned, wasn’t it?

Determined not to give in and text him yet, Jim instead glared furiously at the now-familiar surroundings. 

When he’d purchased the apartment on Conduit Street, this room had been bare, bereft of any character or personality. It had carried no feeling, and Jim had felt no particular inclination to spend time in it. 

But that had changed since Sebastian had made it his. It felt safe. Like home.

Jim knew that Sebastian made his bed every morning, using exact lines and angles, in the same way he would have been taught in the army. On the nights he spent in his own room, he’d often wander grumpily down the hall and spot Sebastian making his bedroom presentable before he came down for breakfast. Jim found it all very odd, especially when he could easily have had a few cleaners in. But Sebastian was determined to do such things by himself, and it wasn’t worth the aggravation of forcing him to stop.

Jim knew all of Sebastian’s habits by now. He knew that he enjoyed eating dry toast in the morning, and that he preferred to eat standing up because it gave him the illusion of activity. Jim knew that Sebastian took no sugar in his tea, and that if there was any in, he’d always drink a glass of milk or fruit juice to keep himself healthy. He also had a tendency to wander about with a towel slung around his hips and slightly damp hair. Although usually that was when Jim interrupted his shower to demand his presence. 

Jim didn’t like to eat breakfast alone.

Sebastian had lots of scars. His back was still covered in the faint marks from his childhood, but now there was the one on his face and the one across his chest which had damaged one of his nipples. Jim teased him about that when he was in one of his better moods. He’d threatened to spread a rumour about the tigress tearing off the nipple in question, but Seb had drawn the line there, and Jim wasn’t quite that cruel. 

He had the initials ‘J.M.’ on his hip, too. Which meant he was still obediently renewing them to make sure they didn’t fade. 

That was reassuring. 

Was Sebastian attractive to other people? Even with his facial scar and dangerous face? 

Jim pondered that for a worrying minute. It was impossible to say. To him, Sebastian seemed wildly attractive, almost absurdly so. Everything from the way he walked, to his blue eyes, to his grim resting face. 

He’d managed to have plenty of sex since his facial scar, though, Jim decided, which meant that yes, he was just as attractive to other people as he was to Jim. 

The thought made his skin burn with rage.

Even if Sebastian was fucking someone else at this very moment, Jim told himself firmly, he’d come back to Conduit Street. He still bore Jim’s mark. Nobody else could ever own him, because his soul, his body, his entire being, belonged to him.

Would Sebastian go for a casual shag to let off steam even if he knew the unfortunate (or fortunate) party was going to be killed for their trouble?

Jim remembered Sebastian’s ruthlessness in the warehouse. He considered Sebastian’s impressively high kill count. 

Yes, Jim mused darkly. It was possible he still would.

They could play with Sebastian, whoever they were, but they couldn’t have him. Sebastian was already claimed, owned. Jim tried to take comfort in that, but it was a struggle. 

Jim wondered if Sebastian was still as much of an attentive lover as he once had been. He wondered if he still kept his eyes open when he came. He wondered if he’d tenderly kiss the thighs and stomach of his conquest, or if that was a mark of affection reserved only for love and thus him.

Feeling helpless, an emotion he’d almost forgotten he could experience, Jim flopped down on Sebastian’s side of the bed and blew a loud raspberry of childish frustration.

Jim wanted it to go away, but it wouldn’t.

His chest was aching, his gut twisting, his skin itching and burning. 

He was powerless to stop it. Whatever it was, (and he didn’t want to think about that), it was consuming him from the inside out. He couldn’t work. He couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t even pick up his own mobile phone and call his right-hand man. 

He could have him killed, Jim thought spitefully. That would extinguish the flames.

No. No, it wouldn’t work. Because he didn’t want Sebastian dead. That would only make the pain worse. 

They were bound together by their shared histories. Tied up in suffocating knots by pure, disgusting… love?

There it was again. The word Jim hated. 

He never said it. Not properly. Those four harmless little letters made him feel ill. 

He’d been exposed to the foul, repulsive disease long before he’d been old enough to become wary, and now it was planted in him like the beanstalk sprung from magic beans. It was growing and growing, like the forest of thorns that had sprouted to protect the princess in her slumber. It was a poisoned apple stuck in his throat, choking him, rendering him unable to speak.

Love. 

Love for a coward. Love for a nasty, lying, betraying, double-crossing, abandoning tin soldier. 

For the only human being Jim had ever shown the slightest shred of mercy.

For that blond ten year old with the blue eyes, the first person that had ever been kind to him in his life.

Jim closed his eyes and began to recite Pi, up to at least five hundred decimal places.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Sebastian returned to Conduit Street half an hour later. Jim could hear him letting himself in via the front door, and then heading to the kitchen. No doubt for a drink of water. 

He waited for Sebastian to have padded halfway up the stairs before he sat up sharply and narrowed his eyes at his guilty-looking second-in-command. 

“Where have you been?” he demanded shortly, glaring at Sebastian as he emerged in the doorway. 

If Sebastian wondered what Jim was doing in his bedroom, he didn’t say a word. 

“Just out,” he answered calmly.

“And what if I’d needed you?” 

Seb pulled his phone out of his back pocket. 

“Had this on me. Anyway, you said I could take some downtime. My schedule’s clear until tomorrow.”

That was annoyingly true. Jim knew full well that Sebastian wouldn’t have gone without permission. It was in his nature to obey orders and structure. He was unfailingly and irritatingly loyal.

“Three hours,” Jim drawled, barely able to disguise his bitterness. “You must have had quite the time.” 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed. “Wasn’t bad.”

Jim could have scoffed. Sebastian was so entirely unabashed that Jim could feel hatred bubbling under his skin. 

He could have shot him then and there, he realised. He could have taken one of Sebastian’s treasured guns and pulled the trigger. It would have given him a certain amount of pleasure to see Sebastian in pain at that moment. 

That was until Seb pulled a small black leather notebook out of his pocket and tapped at it with his fingers, looking really rather proud of himself. 

“What’s this?” Jim demanded. 

“Been doing some writing,” Seb explained with a smile of mild embarrassment. “Went to sit in St James’s Park.” 

Jim’s eyebrows raised as high as they possibly could. 

“So you’ve been...? ”

“Went for a run and then did some planning for my novel. You know, the one I was on about the other day? Not sure if you were listening. Think you might have been busy.” 

Jim wanted to laugh. His body suddenly flooded with overwhelming relief. 

Writing? Of course he’d been writing. This was the same Sebastian Moran that had published poems under a pseudonym while he was in the army, the same man that read novels every night, the same man that practically worshipped William Shakespeare, the same little boy that had scribbled his thoughts down in a journal faithfully on almost every night of his childhood. 

Jim could have smacked himself. But he didn’t. He kept his expression stony, impassive, and tilted his head to one side. 

“And your problem?” he asked quietly. 

Sebastian coloured and then gave one of his crooked grins.

“Oh, yeah. I dealt with that when we first got back here,” he admitted a bit gruffly. “My en-suite.” 

There was an uncomfortable silence in which Sebastian shifted from foot to foot, and Jim did absolutely nothing at all. He was too angry with himself to speak. He hadn’t allowed his emotions to rule over his rational mind in ten years. It was a dangerous feeling. He could feel the careful control he’d gained over his life slipping away. 

“If you’ve been running, you’ll need a shower,” Jim managed to say eventually. 

“My en-suite?” Sebastian asked, looking uncertain. For some reason it irritated Jim, how tentative he was being. This was Sebastian’s own bedroom. He had every right to demand he leave. And yet there he was looking like he was the one intruding.

Jim decided to solve the problem himself by slipping off the bed and strolling carelessly past Sebastian. He brushed his arm on the way past. Not completely by accident.


	104. 'I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is struggling with his feelings for Sebastian, and Seb is doing his best to make up for his years away from Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.' - Beatrice, Act One Scene One
> 
> \- Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare.

It was about half nine when Jim was forced to leave the relative comfort of his study to find out what in the world was causing the incessant rumbling noise from the kitchen.

He was ready to snap, furious that he’d been disturbed. His emotional wobble earlier had shaken him to his core, and he was determined to make up for it by being as horrible as he could possibly manage to be without driving Sebastian away forever.

And that would have taken a lot, anyway, Jim knew, because Sebastian was the sort of man to put up with any number of his irrational outbursts and activities just to remain in his company.

Pulling on his dressing gown, Jim stomped down the corridor wearing a face like thunder. There was no use in creeping up on Sebastian. He’d become too used to it over the past month, and besides, his hunter’s senses were too astute. 

“What are you doing?” Jim demanded, turning up in the kitchen sporting his most suspicious and disapproving face.

Sebastian turned away from the microwave slightly guiltily. He was wearing a pair of jogging bottoms, a grey t-shirt, and a pair of grey socks. It was similar to the clothes he’d worn as a teenager, although he was obviously better built now, his arms far more muscular than they once had been, although not overwhelmingly so. They were still lean rather than bulging, but they were pleasantly defined. He had the body of a swimmer, Jim had often mused. 

Jim stomped further into the room and peered around his awkward lump of a sniper. The microwave was the source of all the noise, the rumbling and clinking of plates. Jim supposed they didn’t use the microwave much, which explained why the sound was so insufferably irritating to him. He wasn’t used to it. 

Living alone, he’d become accustomed to a certain amount of silence. 

“Thought you might be hungry,” Sebastian explained, with that same guilty expression plastered all over his face. 

Jim narrowed his eyes, still distrustful. He gestured that Sebastian should move to one side, which he obediently did, so he could get a good look at the microwave. 

Inside, on a plate spinning clumsily, was what looked like a bowl of brown mush. He might have turned his nose up at it, had he not suddenly taken notice of the smell drifting towards him. 

“Chocolate pudding?” he asked, voice higher than he’d intended with surprise. 

“Yeah,” Seb agreed, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Why?” Jim demanded. 

Sebastian bristled slightly at that. 

“Look, if you don’t want it, that’s fine. I just thought you might fancy something. You didn’t eat properly this morning, boss.” 

Jim was certain the ‘boss’ had been added at the last moment to attempt to appease him. Sebastian was getting good at averting his fury when he needed to. 

He raised an eyebrow and scowled. 

Jim hadn’t eaten lunch, either, but Sebastian didn’t need to know that. He’d only have worried and made an unnecessary fuss. 

He glanced up at Sebastian’s face cautiously. The idiotic excuse for a right-hand man was still looking embarrassed. It made Jim furious for reasons he couldn’t explain. 

“I’ll eat it,” Jim decreed sharply, just as the microwave pinged to a stop. 

Sebastian nodded and headed to the side to plate up. Jim, muttering under his breath, went into the living room and sat in his favourite spot on the main sofa. He crossed his legs primly, and then thought better of it. 

The problem was, he wasn’t sure how to act in moments like this. It was so entirely alien to him that he ended up confused and defensive. He’d become used to being by himself and having no one to worry about or fuss over him. It was a startling change, and one he was hesitant to let go unchallenged.

Jim did nothing without putting up a fight. 

Sebastian traipsed into the room moments later with a bowl of chocolate pudding on a tray. When he offered it to Jim, he rejected the tray and instead picked up the bowl and the fancy spoon, cradling the dessert possessively in his lap. He noticed Sebastian had drizzled the pudding with double cream. He’d used exactly the right amount, and chosen the correct make. Frustratingly, there was nothing to criticize. So Jim didn’t say a word. 

His sniper selected a banana from the fruit bowl on the table and then settled in his usual armchair, starting to peel it. Sebastian had added the fruit bowl on his second week at Conduit Street. The bowl of sweets wasn’t to his liking, apparently. His loss, Jim thought spitefully. If he didn’t enjoy sweets then he was missing out. Healthy eating was pointless in their line of work. It was unlikely either of them were going to enjoy long lives or ever approach old age.

“I should have told you where I was going earlier, boss,” Sebastian said lowly. 

“It wasn’t a requirement.”

“It would have been more professional.” 

Jim tutted and began to stir his chocolate pudding. 

“Moran, it was your free afternoon,” he pointed out sternly. “I don’t care what you get up to. I have far more important things to be worrying about than your social life.” 

Sebastian looked slightly stung, but he nodded and licked his lips. 

“Next time I’ll write it in the diary or something,” he said quietly. “Just to make sure.” 

Jim nodded his head begrudgingly and tentatively tried a tiny portion of his dessert. It was very good, just the sort of thing he liked to eat. Only he couldn’t remember buying it for himself, which meant it was one of Sebastian’s purchases from his most recent weekly shop.

“You have an alright afternoon?” Seb asked. 

“I was working.” 

Sebastian wasn’t deterred by the short response. 

“Go well?” 

Jim was unused to this concern about his wellbeing. This wasn’t the empty small talk he’d grown accustomed to. This was genuine. Sebastian really did want to know how he’d been and was waiting for his answer.

After ten years, it was still quite a shock to his system.

“Are you wondering why I was in your bedroom when you got back?” Jim asked curiously, diverting the conversation to steal back some of the control.

“Not really, boss,” Sebastian said simply, with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders. “You own the place, and I’ve nothing to hide.” 

Jim rolled his eyes and licked at his spoon. 

“I wasn’t checking up on you,” he informed his sniper. 

Irritatingly, Sebastian asked no further questions. Apparently, he didn’t feel it was his place to do so, obedient imbecile that he was.

Jim could have told him he’d been feeling lonely, that he had been missing his company, that he’d been worried he might not come home. But it wasn’t in his nature to be so open and honest, nor would he admit to being reliant on someone ever again. It was too dangerous. Because they could leave.

“I was checking you were comfortable,” Jim lied seamlessly. “Your room’s still quite bare. Is there anything else you need?” 

Sebastian swallowed his mouthful of banana and shook his head. 

“No, boss. Honestly, it’s top notch.”

Oh, how Jim had missed those odd little sayings of Sebastian’s, the way they peppered his speech, betraying his London upbringing. He came out with strange phrases from Scotland too, sometimes, or Scouse sayings, apparently picked up from his ‘friends’ in the army. Jim seemed to recall Sebastian mentioning such figures, although he hadn’t paid complete attention. He often drifted when people were talking to him, only absorbing the relevant points. And when Sebastian spoke, he had a tendency to get lost in the sound of his voice rather than his actual words.

Another silence, an oddly companionable one, forced Jim to create tension once again. 

“Holmes has relapsed.” 

Jim wasn’t quite sure why he said it, but there it was, in the air between them. He could hardly take it back, and besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Oh yeah?” 

Sebastian couldn’t disguise his hatred for the man. It made Jim want to smirk, although he didn’t. 

More comfortable knowing that Sebastian was the one facing inner conflict and turmoil, Jim’s accent began to lilt with confidence. 

“His brother’s staging an intervention. About time too. It’s such a shame to see that brain go to waste.”

Seb didn’t respond. It seemed he was struggling to remain respectful and keep his thoughts to himself. 

Jim ate a large spoonful of chocolate pudding and then peered at his sniper over the bowl.

“So, what did you think of him?” he asked sweetly. 

“Who?” 

“His brother. Mycroft Holmes.” 

“Dunno,” Seb said with a shrug. He seemed confused, as well he might be. “Chubby kid, wasn’t he?”

Jim chuckled and licked at his spoon. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t recognise him. You have an eye for faces, don’t you?” 

Sebastian had gone faintly grey with dawning realisation. Jim might have called him slow, had he not known full well that compared to most ordinary people, Sebastian was really rather bright.

“Boss?” he grunted out, eyes pained with remembrance. 

“Ginger Toff. Isn’t that what you call him?” Jim asked with a smirk. 

Seb put down his banana and sat up, shaken. 

“Seriously?” 

“Oh, yes. He’s shed a few pounds. Makes all the difference.” 

“It’s too much of a coincidence.”

“How so?” 

Was it wrong of him to enjoy the distress colouring Sebastian’s handsome features? Jim thought it probably was, but it didn’t stop the spark of excitement in his stomach at seeing it.

“Them and us. Of all the people in the world, boss.”

He seemed to look to Jim for assurance, but predictably, found none. His boss was clearly getting a kick out of all this. 

“Mycroft Holmes?” Sebastian said, shaking his head, still looking for some elaboration. “No way, boss. It’s mental.”

“It’s not that unlikely,” Jim said with a shrug of his shoulders. “You have to remember that Sherlock Holmes and his fluctuating big brother are both extremely intelligent, as am I. All three of us are geniuses, which is rare enough given our age. Add to that an association with the law, on both sides, and, well…”

“And me? Where do I come into all this?” 

He looked dismayed at having been left out, Jim realised. It was quite beautiful to behold. 

“You’re the best shot Europe’s seen in the last century, and you’re of well above average intelligence. It makes sense we should come together like this.” 

Seb grimaced. He didn’t want to be associated with Holmes. Not with either of them. But at the same time, the idea of being replaced in Jim’s affections by those two posh pricks was almost too much to bear. He held his tongue and decided not to insult the men Jim had apparently gifted his rare and valuable admiration. 

“He as smart as you wanted him to be? Sherlock, I mean.” Seb asked gruffly, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

“Oh, yes. A worthy adversary.” 

Adversary, Seb thought to himself. Adversary was safe, wasn’t it? It meant opposite sides. Minimal contact. 

“You gonna kill him?”

“One day,” Jim agreed pleasantly. “Or vice versa, although I very much doubt that.” 

That seemed to just about do it. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed dangerously, lips curling into a snarl, and his jaw set with protective determination. 

“Why the fuck would he kill you?” he growled, cracking his knuckles subconsciously. He never liked to hear about harm coming to Jim, hypothetical or otherwise.

“Oh, Sebastian. You really don’t know him at all,” Jim drawled. 

“Neither do you,” Seb put in boldly. "He doesn't know who the fuck you are. You're just watching him. "

Jim’s eyes flashed. 

“Are you contradicting me, Moran?” 

“You don’t know him,” Seb insisted in a low voice, knowing full well he was pushing his luck. Jim could see it in his eyes, the battle between obedience and concern.

“Our destinies have been bound together since Carl Powers.” 

“Thought you didn’t believe in destiny?” Seb half spat. 

“It’s a figure of speech.” 

“He’s just some washed up coke addict. I don’t get why you’re so-“

“Because he’s me!” Jim snapped, shoving his spoon into his empty bowl and slamming it down on the table.

Sebastian was not deterred. He shook his head grimly, lips curling further.

“Bullshit,” he grunted. 

Jim narrowed his eyes. 

“Bullshit, boss,” Seb corrected himself with as much respect as he could muster.

Jim crossed his legs and peered over at Sebastian, making sure to radiate disgust and contempt. It was an act, of course, but Sebastian wasn’t to know that.

“I wouldn’t expect someone ordinary like you to understand,” he said icily. 

Well, there was Seb back in his place. He swallowed down his hurt and shrugged. It was getting easier to do nowadays, to let the insults bounce off him. To not take them to heart. 

“His brother had me tortured,” Sebastian tried again, respectful, but not yet beaten.

“It wasn’t his fault.” 

“Is he your adversary or your fucking crush?” 

Jim could have chuckled at hearing the word ‘crush’ coming from Colonel Moran’s lips. It didn’t suit him at all. 

But he didn’t laugh. He grew quiet and serious. 

“There can’t be two of me,” he explained, reasonably in his opinion.

Sebastian’s lips parted with concerned confusion. His blue eyes were pained as he tried to understand. He shook his head slightly, apparently without thinking. 

Jim did chuckle this time, to disguise his own unease. 

“You think I’ve well and truly cracked up, don’t you? Well, I think the same about you, Moran, so at least we’re even in that respect.” 

He smoothed his pale fingers over his comfortable trousers and then pouted childishly. It wasn’t a real argument, not honestly, but it felt odd. It felt wrong.

“What will getting involved with him gain?” Sebastian asked in a calmer voice, one he was obviously forcing to hide his anger and concern.

Well, that was simple. Jim smiled slowly, disconcertingly. 

“Entertainment.” 

Sebastian rubbed at his forehead with his hands and let out a sigh of frustration. One of his feet was twitching with anger and resentment. 

“Yeah, plenty of entertainment with that one. He’s having a ball over there in his crack den.” 

“Sebastian, he’s a genius. Don’t underestimate him.” 

“What the hell’s he got going for him?” Sebastian demanded. 

Jim sighed, long and lingering, and settled back on the sofa. 

“He likes bees, forensics, and cocaine.” 

“Fucking apiology,” Sebastian muttered. 

Jim very almost smiled. Sebastian was trying to throw in his intelligence there, to subtly remind him that he had a healthy intellect of his own. It was often the case when he was feeling overshadowed. He used his best literature brain and flaunted his vocabulary.

However, Jim ignored the word. 

“He’s a homoromantic asexual.” 

“Great.” 

“Although that’s pure speculation at this point. He’s never shown any sexual interest in anyone. There’s a boy at university, though. A friend.” 

“No offence, boss, but I don’t give a fuck.” 

Sebastian didn’t want to hear about Sherlock Holmes’s sex life, be it real or imagined. To Sebastian, Holmes the Younger was just another hit on his list. As soon as he was given permission, he was going to put a bullet through the prick’s overdeveloped brain to get him the hell away from Jim.

“Victor, his name was,” Jim continued, regardless. “Or is, I should say. He’s not yet past tense.” 

“So you’re killing his mates now?” 

“Don’t be pathetic. I won’t be hurting Trevor.” 

“And what about this Victor bloke?” 

So he was paying attention, Jim mused, despite the delightfully disinterested performance he was putting on. Sebastian always tried to keep up, even when he pretended to be doing otherwise.

“Victor Trevor. His name is Victor Trevor. And he isn’t important.”

“You brought him up.” 

“If Holmes feels sexual urges whatsoever, it’s for his own gender. Women haven’t made the slightest impact on him.” 

“So he’s a queer too. Great.” 

“Asexual, Sebastian.” 

“I don’t give a fuck, boss.” 

Jim frowned over at Sebastian and raised one of his pointed eyebrows. 

“You’re being very disrespectful.” 

“I’m off the clock.”

Jim considered that and apparently judged it a worthy excuse, because he smiled. 

“Hm, I suppose you are. And yet you still went out of your way to make me chocolate pudding. Bless.” 

It was meant as a mockery, but Sebastian nodded his head with agreement. 

“I’m still your friend, boss, if nothing else.” 

“I don’t have friends,” Jim said before he had time to think. It was what Moriarty would have said. It was what he was supposed to say.

Seb didn’t even look offended, he looked resigned and vaguely pained, but upsettingly understanding.

“You know I care about you. It’s not some bloody secret.” 

“Even if you’ll never have your feelings reciprocated?” Jim enquired. 

“I’m a big boy, Jim. I can take a bit of rejection.” 

Jim raised his eyebrows, so Sebastian took a breath and thought carefully about his next words.

“I respect you as a man, alright? I like you as a person. You’ll always be my top priority. No matter what. Which is why I made you the fucking pudding.” 

“So it isn’t you trying to bribe me into having sex with you?” 

That seemed to hit Sebastian squarely in the chest like a physical blow.

“Boss, as if anyone could bribe you into anything.” 

Jim scoffed, but Sebastian seemed determined to continue. 

“You know how I feel about you-“ 

“Careful,” Jim warned. 

“I won’t say it. ‘I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow’ and all that. But you know what that means?” 

“What?” Jim asked warily. 

“Means I’d do anything for you. Support you with anything. Even if you found yourself another bloke.”

Jim felt his heart beat faster. It was all too perfect. And perfect was wrong. He had to spoil it. He simply had to.

He swallowed, licked his lips calmly, and prepared another wounding sentence. 

“And what if I told you I preferred Holmes to you?”

Sebastian looked faintly devastated, but he nodded with respect. He only bowed his head slightly, although his eyes betrayed thinly veiled pain. 

“Your business,” Seb forced himself to say. “I’m by your side, no matter what.” 

“Unconditional?” Jim asked quietly, gaze fixed on his sniper. 

There was a long pause. Sebastian seemed to be collecting himself. And then he smiled. Or tried to. 

He was being brave.

“Yeah, boss. Unconditional.”


	105. PTSD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's nightmares continue.

Jim went to bed late that night. He decided to sleep in with Sebastian instead of going to his own room. It was closer, he reasoned, and besides, Sebastian gave off body heat. Not to mention that Sebastian’s bedroom felt more homely than his own, despite being less filled with trinkets and looking plain and minimalist. 

Clad in blue pyjamas this evening, Jim crept into Sebastian’s room, which was, as always, left hopefully unlocked, in case his boss should deign to join him for some reason or another. Jim paused in the doorway and glanced at the scene, taking it in. 

Seb had fallen asleep with his book of crosswords on his lap, and there was a biro on the sheets too. Jim very quietly moved over to the bed and picked up the items. In the light that streamed in from the hall, Jim opened the book to Sebastian’s most recent page and scanned it, seeing how much progress he’d made with the puzzle. 

There was one question Sebastian hadn’t figured out, but Jim knew, so he quickly scrawled it neatly into the boxes. The answer was Callisto, one of Jupiter’s moons. Jim was surprised Sebastian didn’t know it, seeing as Callisto was also a figure from Greek mythology, and Sebastian enjoyed learning about such things. Perhaps Sebastian hadn’t read that particular legend? As Jim placed the crossword puzzle and pen away in the bedside drawer, he resolved to find Sebastian a book on the subject. He was certain he could find a good antique one, the type with the crisp, yellowing pages he knew Seb favoured. 

Or perhaps he could give Sebastian a personal lesson on the planets and stars of the Solar System? It was an idea, anyway, Jim told himself. He’d see how things went, if he had the free time and patience to spend on his sniper.

Sebastian snored on unknowingly, chest rising and falling softly. Jim gave the air a sniff and realised Seb had been cleaning his guns recently. He could smell the sharp and pleasant aroma of the polish. It was far stronger than earlier. Jim’s sensory memory was starting to link that smell to Sebastian now. Which may have been why he liked the unusually potent scent. 

Seb could often be found sitting silently, methodically cleaning his weapons one by one, making sure not to get his fingerprints on the metal if he could help it. His sniper’s OCD tendencies had only got worse with age. When in turmoil, Sebastian would compulsively clean and put things into order. It was something Jim had come to expect and was now able to put up with. 

For a short while Jim had tested him, by leaving sweet wrappers out, putting the books back on the shelf in the wrong order, leaving biros without their lids on; and without fail, Sebastian would fix each and every ‘problem’ for his own peace of mind. When he spotted sweet wrappers, he frowned with frustration and took them out to the kitchen bin. When he’d spotted what Jim had done to the alphabetised books in the living room, he’d abandoned his novel to put them right again. Every biro he saw without a lid created a wrinkle between his brows, and he’d hunt for the lid in question before he could sit back down and relax again. A few times Jim had hidden the lids, just to see Sebastian squirm. Sometimes it was fun to watch Sebastian, the notorious and widely feared Colonel Moran, breaking under the strain of something so minor, but other times he took pity on him, and when Sebastian left the room to continue his silent search, Jim would place the lid back on the table again, and then play the innocent. No harm done.

But the OCD wasn’t the only heightened aspect of Sebastian’s adult personality. He could get very suddenly, very shockingly violent, something Jim wasn’t used to at all. The old Sebastian had experienced temper troubles, of course, but the new form of rage Sebastian seemed to experience was almost uncontrollable. If Jim had been any other person, he might have been scared of Sebastian’s unstable temperament. 

He’d never hurt Jim, but he clearly often found his fury difficult to control. A few times Jim had thought a punch might be coming his way, and only at the last moment did Sebastian manage to see sense. When this happened, often Sebastian stalked off to his bedroom or the downstairs gym room, slamming doors behind him. He scared himself, Jim knew. He was afraid of his new and uncontrollable temper, and more importantly, afraid of what he might end up doing to Jim.

Sebastian thought deeply about his late father and the way he’d changed after his time in the army. Jim often thought deeply about that too.

When his right-hand man saw red, Jim could often hear him pummeling his punch bag and grunting with fury. Often he lingered close to wherever Sebastian had quarantined himself so he could keep an ear out and check his sniper was alright. Once he’d stood in the corridor and listened to Sebastian swearing quite magnificently. When the ex-colonel came back up to the kitchen for a drink of water, Jim noticed that his knuckles were raw and bloody. 

But he’d managed to calm himself down, and that was the main thing.

Jim had considered cleaning them up for him, at least making sure the knuckles didn’t become infected, but he supposed that was unnecessary and thought better of it. After all, Sebastian had been a soldier. He might have been insulted by the babying. And Jim wouldn’t have been able to stand being pushed away when he was actually trying to be kind. 

As Jim pondered this, in his bed, right on cue, Sebastian began to stir. It was three in the morning, which was around the time it most often happened. Jim didn’t flinch, only watched with a grim form of fascination. 

It began with Sebastian’s chest rising and falling more dramatically, as though he’d been out for one of his morning runs. Then his grimace intensified and his soft snoring became panting and sniffs.

Jim knew what was coming next, so he kept his distance. 

Sebastian started to kick out at the duvet and grunt to himself. It was an unpleasant sight, but one Jim was now more than accustomed to. He tilted his head and paid particular attention to Sebastian’s clenched fists and the wrinkle that had appeared between his brows, a deep crease that shouldn’t have made a home on Sebastian’s young face quite yet. 

There was nothing he could do at present, though, so Jim let the experience wash over Sebastian. He stood very still and observed the way his sniper succumbed to the nightmare. 

“No…,” Sebastian grunted, shaking his head stiffly. “No… you can’t just….that’s…no!” 

Jim blinked slowly and wondered what exactly Sebastian was protesting in his dream. 

“No… gotta listen to me… no!” 

“Poor darling,” Jim mused quietly, still monitoring the situation. 

“He’s just… just a kid! No… fuck…just a fucking kid!” 

Which meant he was dreaming about the little child in Afghanistan the Taliban had strapped with explosives, or the death of Aaron, Dawn’s son. Sebastian had always liked children. It was a shame Seb had been forced to witness two of the little monsters die really, Jim thought. No doubt those deaths had something to do with his current mental state. 

Seb seemed to quieten after a while, but he kept on twitching, arms and legs stiff and tense. 

It was post-traumatic stress disorder. Jim had researched it already. It was what Augustus Moran had suffered from when he’d been alive, and it seemed his son was equally cursed. 

“I never thought I’d see you like this, ‘Bastian,” Jim admitted, knowing full well that Sebastian was beyond hearing him. In a way, he felt safe like this. He was able to speak his mind with no fear of repercussions. “I didn’t realise you got so scared.” 

The sniper grunted something incoherent, but it wasn’t a response. It was something else about the army. Another memory imbedded in his subconscious. 

With a light sigh, Jim finally lifted the duvet and slipped into bed beside Sebastian as carefully as he could. His side of the bed was cold, but that didn’t really matter. 

“It’s quite pathetic, really,” Jim mused sadly. “But I know you can’t help it, so I forgive you.”

Jim settled himself as best he could and watched as Sebastian’s body twitched with discomfort. He was shaking too. Trembling in a way he never did when awake. 

They truly were broken together. Finally, Jim was the one able to do the caring and comforting, however secretly it had to be carried out. He no longer had to feel he was pitied. They were even. Both half mad. Sebastian violent and petrified of himself, Jim cruel and without conscience. 

They made quite the pair.

Jim shifted closer now he knew the thrashing had stopped and he wasn’t likely to be smacked in the face by accident. As he let his eyes wander over Sebastian’s sleeping face, he felt sadness in his gut. True sadness. 

Sadness for other people wasn’t something Jim often felt. He felt anger when people betrayed him, regret when he was forced to have a good worker killed for security reasons, and disappointment when someone failed him, but this emotion was so rare for him that he didn’t immediately recognise it. 

“Calm down,” Jim ordered in his softest voice, hoping to rouse Sebastian from his broken slumber. 

Sebastian almost seemed to hear him. He went very still and his expression flickered with uncertainty. 

Jim reached out his hand and carefully traced the line of Sebastian’s jaw with his fingertips.

“You’re lucky we have history, Moran,” Jim sighed. “Anyone else would be dead already.”

Sebastian leaned instinctively closer to Jim. He was still asleep, that much was certain, but Jim felt a certain pride that his voice and touches could calm his sniper. 

He decided to keep talking. It wasn’t as if Sebastian would remember his words in the morning, and it was rather nice to enjoy Sebastian’s presence in this safety. The safety of no consequences. 

“We were two children nobody wanted. But we wanted each other,” Jim soothed him, stroking back Sebastian’s sweaty hair. “And that made all the difference.”

To Jim’s surprise and momentary concern, Sebastian took a breath and then his blue eyes flickered tentatively open. One glance, however, told Jim that Sebastian was still half-asleep. He was delirious. 

“Still?” Sebastian panted, trying his best to calm down, even as he heard the shouting of his comrades echoing through his head, the burst of a bullet as it tore through flesh. He could see that kid exploding in his mind’s eye, blood and guts and all that fucking noise…

His eyes found Jim’s face. Jim’s face meant safety. It grounded him.

Jim paused for a moment, considering his response. Then very tentatively, he gave a short nod.

Sebastian calmed. He nuzzled against Jim’s cool palm like a large house cat.

“Who’d have thought you’d be haunted by the war? You of all people,” Jim mused quietly. “You always wanted to be a soldier. Ever since I’ve known you.” 

“Not haunted by…” 

A sudden flashback ripped through Sebastian’s consciousness. The Afghan prisoners he’d seen tortured, civilians screaming, little brown children crying with large dark eyes, like Jim’s… 

The regiment turning. The lads testifying against him. Being summoned to his superiors, accused of rape. That fucking march when he’d refused to lower his head and his own men had jeered him…

“Jim,” he found himself muttering, grabbing for the sheets.

Jim shook his head wearily and watched as Sebastian grew feverish. He got like this a lot now. He’d sweat profusely and his entire body would tense up. Sebastian would mumble and shout out, and he’d show the weakness he never so much as hinted at during the day.

It came and went in waves.

“Hush now,” Jim whispered, tutting lightly and shaking his head. “Go back to sleep. You don’t know what you’re saying, Moran. You don’t even know you’re awake. Go back now.” 

“Don’t want to go back,” Sebastian panted out through gritted teeth. He looked terrified, like a child. 

Jim was struck with a memory also, one from his own childhood. He remembered waking up at eleven years old, panicking and flailing and crying, because he kept on thinking of Stanley, and somehow, in his sleepy state, he’d convinced himself the man was coming back for him to hurt him again. 

He’d been terrified and nothing made sense and he hurt all over. But as he sobbed and shook, he heard the ladder up to his bunk creaking, and then there was Sebastian, looking worried and tired and devastated. 

If Jim had believed in religious nonsense, he might have considered Sebastian to be a form of angel. A rough, violent, sarcastic guardian angel. 

But, of course, Jim didn’t believe in religious nonsense, and he knew angels didn’t exist.

Sebastian had dried off his legs, swaddled him in blankets, settled him safely in his bed with him, and then slept by his side. 

He’d only been thirteen at the time. Thirteen years old but already the protector of another human being. Perhaps it had been too much for him? Maybe Jim had ruined Sebastian with his very existence? 

“It’s gonna be alright,” Sebastian had always mumbled in his low, sleeping voice, as Jim whimpered beside him. “Promise. It’s gonna be fine, Jim. You’re with me now, yeah? I won’t let anything hurt you.” 

Jim blinked out of his memory and glanced at the large, terrified sniper beside him. Fully grown. Close to twenty nine years of age. 

“It’s going to be alright, Moran,” he said steadily. “I promise.” 

“Keep seeing… seeing stuff, Jim… kids ‘n all… getting hurt…fucking regiment…think they’re gonna get me done for rape. Never did it… never did anything he didn’t want… I saw this woman, Jim….nobody cared. Just ripped off her clothes and everything, wouldn’t stop… nobody cared, boss… tried to do something…knocked his lights out… boss…”

“Sebastian, it’s going to be fine,” Jim said, more firmly this time. He shifted closer and cupped Sebastian’s cheeks, forcing him to focus. “You’re with me now. You’re in bed at our Conduit Street apartment, and I’m right beside you.” 

“Jim?” Sebastian muttered, blinking and then narrowing his eyes, seeming to only just register his boss’ true presence. 

Jim sighed and leaned in to press the lightest kiss to Sebastian’s sweaty forehead. Seb looked stunned by the gesture, which meant his sniper had returned. 

“You’re having nightmares again, Moran,” he explained gently. “Are you back with me now?” 

“Back with you, boss,” Sebastian breathed. His eyes were becoming steady now, which told Jim that, yes, he really was returning. His hallucinations and delirium were falling away.

“This has got to stop, Sebastian. You can’t go on like this,” Jim declared with a slight sigh. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What you need is medication. Something to calm you down at night. I don’t like seeing you like this.” 

Sebastian nodded and sniffed. 

“I can move out.” 

“You’ll do no such thing,” Jim said swiftly, with narrowed eyes. “Did you or did you not spend years of your childhood looking after me when I screamed at night and suffered from black moods?” 

“I did, but that was because you were my mate…” 

“Therefore,” Jim continued, ignoring his sweating sniper. “I owe you.” 

“You don’t,” Seb mumbled, looking uncomfortable at the idea. 

“I do.” 

Sebastian took a few deep breaths. He was trying to regulate his breathing, Jim could tell. And he looked ashamed of himself, too. Very much so.

“I’m a fucking mess,” Sebastian managed to say. “Thought getting back to you would sort it, boss.” 

“Nothing ever ‘sorts it’,” Jim told him with a wise form of bitterness. “Once it’s in your head, it never leaves. You have to learn to deal with what you have, because it won’t go away. It never goes away, Sebastian. It lingers and lingers.” 

“Is this what it feels like?” Sebastian asked quietly. “In your head?” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Jim admitted. “I’ve only ever lived in my own mind. But if you’re talking about the sleep disturbances, the paranoia, the periods of depression, (that seem to come out as violence for you), the feeling of wanting it all to stop but not knowing how to achieve that, the hatred of your own being and simultaneous hatred of everyone else for not being broken when you are, the fear of being a burden or being insane, the days when nothing makes sense, the nights when everything makes too much sense and you can’t stop laughing only nobody else understands, the mind-numbing boredom, the urge to jump off a bridge just for the sheer hell of it… Then yes, Sebastian. That’s what it’s like.”

Sebastian was left speechless. He’d never in his life heard Jim describe his mental state in such honest detail. It devastated him, made him feel sick, made him want to wrap Jim in his arms and take his demons from him. 

Instead, he turned his head slightly and kissed one of Jim’s cool palms.

“I never knew,’ Seb admitted, voice low and rough. “I never knew it was that bad.” 

“Well, now you do,” Jim said bluntly. He stroked Sebastian’s cheeks one last time and then pulled his hands away from his face. “Are you ready to go back to sleep now?” 

“Yeah,” Sebastian muttered. He looked incredibly embarrassed. Even in the darkness Jim could see Sebastian’s ears had coloured. 

“Good,” Jim sighed, already returning to his side of Sebastian’s bed and plumping up his pillow. He lay on his side, facing inwards, and Sebastian mirrored him. An empty space separated the two men, and nothing else. 

For a moment they watched each other, Jim weary, Sebastian tentative.

“I know I’m causing you hassle,” Sebastian said quietly. “I’m sorry, boss.”

Jim settled into his sleeping position, legs curled up close to his body, knees bent. 

“Don’t be,” he muttered. “I prefer this to living alone.” 

With that he closed his eyes and appeared to end the conversation.

A few minutes later, Jim tentatively reached out his right hand into the space between them. Sebastian followed suit with his left. Jim intertwined their fingers for the first time in over ten years, and then fell asleep.


	106. Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Jim's life together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This is just a warning message to say we have two chapters remaining. Not counting this one. I really appreciate your messages and support. I've enjoyed writing this so much, and I hope you'll like the conclusion! x

This whole super-villain lark wasn’t nearly as glamorous as it was supposed to be. Not that Seb minded much. Glamour, wealth, and notoriety had never been his motivation. 

Jim was his motivation, and it just so happened he valued those three aspects of life on the ‘Dark Side’ very much. 

There was a lot of waiting around, a lot of paperwork, a lot of disciplinary meetings with the staff, and a hell of a lot of wearing suits when he really didn’t fancy it. 

There were early mornings, late nights, grovelling employees, drug shipments, untrustworthy clients, and Jim’s black moods to contend with. 

And the lack of shagging was taking its toll too. 

But there were the fun days as well. 

Sometimes Jim would select a name from the organisation and whisper the word ‘execution’ directly into Sebastian’s ear at breakfast, which meant Seb was allowed to play a bit. When Jim needed entertaining and Seb needed a place to vent his temper, the unfortunate traitor was bundled into Conduit Street via the back way in the dead of night, after which they were housed downstairs in the soundproofed room Jim lovingly called his ‘dungeon.’ Seb had no objections. After all, it meant he was given leave to break some bones. Any person that betrayed Jim was a person he was more than happy to see writhe in agony as he shattered their legs or fractured their skulls. They brought it on themselves for crossing Jim Moriarty and thinking they could get away with it.

Jim was teaching him various new techniques to try out, and Seb recycled some of the ones he’d seen used in Afghanistan on Taliban, and the more psychological methods of torture he’d had used on him when the government had been holding him. He enjoyed using those. Every time a person cracked under the strain and begged for death, he felt the triumph of having been through the same and beaten them. All for Jim. His strength of will and determination to stay alive for him was enough to see him through psychological hell. A psychological hell that it turned out not many people were able to hack without sobbing or screaming for mercy.

Whenever Jim watched over the torture, from a safe distance so as not to stain his clothes, he’d smirk at his sniper occasionally. He liked the show, Seb knew, and Sebastian didn’t want to disappoint him. One time he’d gouged out a man’s eye, just to make Jim laugh. 

It worked. 

He knew he was completely desensitised to violence by now, and that no longer bothered him. Part of his contract with Jim was that he’d kill whomever The Boss wanted dead, and he thought he might as well enjoy himself if he was going to do it anyway. The only clause in the agreement was that he wouldn’t take part in any violence against a child. If Jim wanted some kid under fifteen hurt, then he’d just have to get someone else to do the dirty work, Seb reasoned, because there was no way in hell he was going to be responsible for that.

He went on assassinations every so often. Only rarely, because Jim didn’t want him attracting too much attention. Usually it was just the high profile cases where Jim needed a perfect shot and wanted someone reliable to make sure the job was done exactly as he intended. Jim would watch him via the CCTV network as he picked himself a spot, usually a stairwell, roof, or abandoned building, and then set up. Sometimes he had a smoke while he glanced through the crosshairs, eyes scanning the immediate surroundings, every sense alert. He was good at that now, multitasking. He could smoke on the job, text on the job, and even talk on the phone to The Boss when it was necessary. He reckoned Jim got a kick out of hearing his voice just before he killed a person, because he often rang up about a minute before the hit was due. 

Sebastian was aware the government were probably watching him too, but that didn’t matter. For one, Jim could hack their CCTV, and had done so on numerous occasions. Then there was the fact he was protected. The government knew, according to Jim, that if they tried to take him in again, Jim would create terror in London unlike anything British history had ever experienced.

That was a real ego boost for Seb. He doubted anyone else Jim had on his books was held in such high esteem and given complete and utter protection. Still, there were rival assassins and organisations to contend with that didn’t give a fuck about London being blown to bits, so Seb remained on his guard. 

It was pure bliss, he thought, killing for Jim. Lying on his stomach on a roof in the London chill, feeling the concrete against his skin, inhaling smoke, lungs full of nicotine and tar, fingers warm from his cigarette, gaze fixed on his hit. 

That moment after the bullet tore through a skull was like a drug to Sebastian. His entire body would go almost deathly still, and then his heart would start to pound, his limbs twitching with adrenaline, with the need to punch the air, or kill a man, or fuck someone. 

Jim always laughed at him when he got home with cloudy eyes and a bulge in his jeans. A few times, when he was feeling playful, Jim had slapped him on the arse and told him to go and ‘solve his large problem’. Others, Jim looked mildly irritated and scornful at his apparent incapacity to control the reaction of his body, and rolled his eyes before pottering off to his study.

The Boss never offered to help out with his ‘problem’ now, but occasionally Seb could have sworn he saw something that looked similar to arousal on Jim’s features. Just for a second. In the moment before he rolled his eyes and sashayed away muttering to himself.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim saw fit to show Sebastian his bedroom one day in early September, when the entire flat felt cool and crisp, because Jim refused to put on the heating. He enjoyed the cold, he said. Well, it meant the body-heat excuse to be close to Sebastian still stood, and couldn’t be challenged.

Sebastian was wary. He knew that Jim’s bedroom was usually out of bounds on apparent pain of death. So he was on his very best behavior.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but what Jim showed him when he opened the door to the room just down the hall from his own bedroom wasn’t really overly exciting. It was just a bedroom. Bed in the centre of the room covered in gold and blue sheets, cream and blue walls, gold curtains with posh tassels on, all in a similar design to the living room. 

On the walls were a few paintings and etchings in fancy gold frames. Jim had framed a detailed illustration of what looked like Snow White in her glass coffin near to the door. She was surrounded by flowers and woodland animals, the trees looming over her, casting shadows on the scene. Sebastian almost missed the silhouette of the prince at the very corner of the image. He knew this part of the story well. Jim had always loved it.

As a child, Jim had seemed torn between siding with the wicked queen because Snow White was so ‘insufferably stupid’, but also secretly quite liking the idea of a handsome prince coming across the glass coffin and inadvertently dislodging the poisoned apple in Snow White’s throat. 

Jim had always denied enjoying happy endings, but Sebastian could tell he had secretly longed for his own. 

There was an elaborate dressing table in one corner, lavish, with a large gold mirror and various cosmetics resting on the cream surface. Seb could make out concealer and mascara, along with hair gel, a brush, and a tub of medication. Draped over the mirror was a simple string of lights. It brought to mind a dressing room that actors might use at the back of some massive, posh theatre. 

An almost overflowing bowl of sweets sat on the top of his chest of drawers, and there was a vase beside them. It was long and thin and gilded gold. Inside was a single red rose, thorns still on. 

It was real, not fake, although it was dying too, because Jim had neglected to put any water in the vase. 

Sebastian wondered if it was an experiment, or if Jim just enjoyed watching the flower wither and die throughout the day.

There were a few framed constellation charts on the walls, and a bookshelf packed with books about the universe and scientific theory. Oddly, there was no wardrobe, although Seb soon realised that the room at the end of the hall must be where Jim housed all his designer gear. He’d never been in that room either. 

Seb spotted a few more toy soldiers that he hadn’t seen before on a shelf near to Jim’s bed. They were better made then the ones downstairs in the living room. One of them was dressed up in camouflage gear, a proper replica of a British solider serving in Afghanistan. The tiny plastic face had a sharp jaw and held a miniature black rifle in one hand. It wasn’t an accurate rendering, Seb thought, although he supposed most people in possession of the doll wouldn’t really know all that much about guns.

His gaze passed a few more paintings of fictional heroines, notably a mermaid and what looked like Cinderella, some antique Victorian mathematical equipment, and a diagram of the human body. Every so often Seb spotted more modern items that had probably been bought from the downstairs Westwood boutique. One print, Sebastian recognised. He found his lips curling into a crooked grin as he noticed Jim had chosen to display a copy of the artwork for ‘God Save The Queen’ by the Sex Pistols. That particular form of artistic anarchy appealed to Sebastian. It was the sort of image he’d have put up in his own bedroom.

He was about to tell Jim how much he liked it, when his attention caught on a single photograph sitting on Jim’s bedside table. 

The image was of two kids on Christmas day, both wearing paper crowns. 

It was the photograph Dawn had taken of the pair of them back when they were fifteen and thirteen. 

Sebastian took in his own embarrassed sort of grimace, and Jim’s smug smile of triumph. Jim was clinging to him as he sat on his lap, arms around his neck. His own hands were on Jim’s hips, holding him steady.

They looked so young. His face wasn’t marred by a scar, and Jim’s body hadn’t even hit puberty. His face was slightly rounder than he remembered, more childish, and his arms and legs were skinny. Just a kid. A vulnerable, possessive, stroppy little kid that Sebastian had loved so much, like he was his own flesh and blood. 

Seb swallowed and forced himself to glance away again.

“It’s nice,” Sebastian said eventually, gesturing at the room in general. 

Jim nodded his head. He’d been silently observing Sebastian, trying to read his guarded reactions. 

‘It’s a lot different to mine. Fancier.” 

“Well, you’re a simple sort of man, Moran. You don’t appreciate the finer things in life. You never have.” 

“That’s because I’ve never had them. You don’t miss what you’ve never known,” Seb said with a shrug. 

“So how do you explain my expensive taste?” 

“It’s just you, I suppose. You’ve always been into that sort of thing. You used to say you wanted a castle when you were a kid.” 

Sebastian remembered Jim at eight years old declaring he wanted to be the king of his own castle, and that he’d have a moat and a drawbridge and a special torture dungeon for his enemies. He took great joy in explaining to Sebastian, at length, how he’d stand on the battlements and watch the people he hated drowning in the water, and that he might even pour boiling oil out too, just to make them cry. 

“And you’ve never wanted anything like that?” Jim asked, tilting his head to one side. 

“I wouldn’t mind visiting a castle. Maybe owning the grounds. Working out the history of it all.” 

Jim sighed, although the answer was really quite predictable. He knew Sebastian well, and sitting around in luxury being waited on wasn’t Seb’s style at all.

“This lifestyle is going to be wasted on you, isn’t it?” 

“I’m grateful,” Seb said carefully. “For all of it. I won’t take it for granted. I know I don’t deserve all this.” 

“You gave me a home, didn’t you?” 

“I didn’t give you it.” 

“Yes, you did. Without you it would have been awful. The others would have bullied me. I would have been alone. You consistently looked after me. And now I’m returning the favour. You’re in a difficult financial situation, so I’m letting you have a job. You’re homeless, so I’m giving you accommodation.”

“I appreciate it-“ 

“I owe you,” Jim cut in fiercely, clearly signaling to Sebastian that he ought to be quiet now. “I’m just returning the favour.”

Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at the large bed in the centre of the room, covered in rich blue and gold sheets and large, plump cushions.

“Lie down.” 

Sebastian hesitated. It was unusual to see him do that. 

“Boss?” 

“Just do it,” Jim commanded, rolling his eyes with impatience.

Sebastian did as he was told. He looked overly large against the gold and blue, although perhaps that was because Jim was used to seeing the bed empty. 

Jim climbed onto the bed next to him, leaving them shoulder to shoulder. He reached out to the bedside table and picked up a small grey remote. He pressed a button and the lights went off, leaving the room in total darkness. Jim’s bedroom had no windows, unlike Seb’s. 

All Sebastian was aware of for one overwhelming moment was Jim’s breathing beside him. Irish and heavy and oddly content. 

Then the lights faded on above them. No, not lights. Stars. Stars on the ceiling. It was a projection. 

“Impressive,” Seb muttered, noticing the detail of the image, how realistic it all was, how the stars flickered and the scene moved ever so slowly.

Jim hummed. He was clearly used to the sight, and didn’t find it particularly exciting. 

“It’s relaxing, I find.” 

Seb smiled. He remembered when Jim had been a kid obsessed with stars and dark matter and the Solar System. He’d sat and read massive books meant for adults and scientists and successfully navigated them, muttering new facts to himself and committing them to memory. Seb remembered when the books had been so huge that Jim could barely hold them up properly, the text so small and packed in that he’d sat on the bedroom floor with his legs crossed, squinting at the words and humming songs to himself. 

“Do you have this on at night?” 

“When I’m thinking,” Jim answered vaguely. 

Sebastian fell silent, taking everything in. It was peaceful, this room. But then, he’d always felt at home with Jim. He suspected he wouldn’t find it so restful had it not belonged to The Boss.

“That one there,” Jim said, pointing at a cluster of bright stars, using his soft teaching voice. “Is called Cassiopeia. Do you see? It looks like a throne, doesn’t it?” 

Sebastian nodded. 

“Some people see it as a crown,” Jim continued knowledgably. “Cassiopeia’s crown. She was an Egyptian queen. Five stars, Seb. They make a ‘W’ shape. ” 

“Got it,” Seb agreed, to show he was listening.

“And then next to them is Cepheus. That’s her husband. Well, obviously that’s nonsense, but it helps some people to remember. You see the constellation to the south?”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s called Andromeda. She’s the daughter of Cassiopeia. She was chained to a rock and eaten by a sea monster. You might like that story. It’s a Greek myth.”

Sebastian grunted his agreement. He was trying to take in the information he was being given, but it was tough when he was so close to Jim, and he sounded so relaxed chatting to him. It reminded Seb of the old days. 

“How about that one?” Seb asked, reaching up and pointing at another cluster of stars.

“Trust you to choose him. It’s Draco. The dragon. Just beneath Ursa Minor. It’s said to be the dragon Hercules had to fight.” 

“You know them all?” 

“All the ones on this projection, yes. It would be impossible to know them all in a literal sense, of course.” 

Sebastian smiled. He felt oddly at peace. 

“Do you remember our first time?” Jim asked suddenly, his tone still quiet and thoughtful. 

Seb should have been startled by the question, but he wasn’t. He just grinned a bit lazily as he brought forward the memory. 

“’Course. In your office.” 

“You put glow-in-the-dark stars up.” 

“Not a patch on these, though.”

“No,” Jim agreed. “But the thought was nice. I appreciated it at the time.”

Jim let out a sigh. 

“I was happy, then,” he admitted.

“Think I was too,” Seb agreed. 

“For a moment. Maybe for the whole hour.” 

Seb smiled again, but it was a sad one. Jim’s childhood had been miserable, he knew, and for some reason he felt partly responsible for that.

“I don’t often feel happy. Not in the relaxed sense. You know me, Sebastian. I get manic. But manic isn’t particularly enjoyable, because there’s always the come-down.” 

“Did they ever work out if you had bipolar?” 

“I gave up asking them for explanations,” Jim admitted. “It didn’t matter.”

Jim found he was feeling oddly light. The usual weight in his gut was gone, as was his dizzying mania. He felt calm. He wondered if this was what death was like. 

“They said you’d been murdered,” Sebastian found himself saying, voice more natural and frank than usual. “They told me when I was still in training. Close to my graduation.” 

“How did you take the news?” 

“I was sick in a bucket.” 

Jim chuckled. 

“You thought it was suicide, didn’t you?” 

“Yeah,” Seb admitted. “Thought that was more likely.”

“The body wasn’t me. Obviously. I found another person of my own age and had them marked the same as I was. The face wasn’t much like mine, so we had to bash it up.” 

“No scars on the thighs.” 

“Exactly,” Jim said approvingly. “I thought you might notice that little detail. You’re the only one that knows about those. Even now.”

The stars glinted above them. The two men were silent for a long while.

“I didn’t just lose my boyfriend, you know,” Jim said quietly. 

“No?” 

“I lost my brother, my family, and my only friend.” 

Sebastian glanced between the constellations on the ceiling. 

“Do you think that’s what we were, then? A mix of all those?” 

Jim nodded. He’d thought about it a lot. 

“Yes. Brothers, best friends, lovers. All three.” 

Sebastian let out a breath. It was a lot to have lost. His world, really, gone down the drain in one stupid decision he made at eighteen years old.

“Did you go to Cambridge in the end? You’re not on the records.” 

“Only for a short while. It wasn’t nearly challenging enough for me, and I was drawing too much attention.” 

Jim suddenly sat up and reached for the bedside drawer. When Sebastian went to do the same, Jim placed his hand gently on Seb’s chest to tell him to stay where he was.

Sebastian naturally obeyed. 

“You left this when you ran off to the army,” Jim said. He handed Sebastian a card in the darkness, careful not to give him a paper cut in the process.

Seb held it up so the light from the projection of stars on the ceiling could illuminate the words. He read it with a smile of memory. His eyes were pained, but it seemed to bring him a great amount of joy too.

It read: 

‘I, Jim Moriarty, owe the owner of this card, Sebastian Augustus Moran, one kiss at a time of his choosing, as a gift for his fifteenth birthday. Card is valid until my death.’

“I remember you giving me this,” Seb breathed, still smiling. 

“So do I.” 

“You were only twelve.” 

“Nearly thirteen and in love with you,” Jim corrected him matter-of-factly. 

“You were just a kid.” 

“That was what you saw when you looked at me. I remember that, Sebastian. It hurt.”

“Do you wish we’d been the same age?” 

Jim nodded. 

“Although I doubt I’d have had a chance even then until we were at least fifteen.” 

Jim reached out and took the business card from Sebastian once again. He tucked it into the pocket on his pyjama shirt and sighed, settling down beside Sebastian, getting comfortable. 

“I miss this,” Seb admitted. 

“What?” 

“Being able to talk. We used to talk a lot back when we were kids.” 

“Oh, constantly,” Jim agreed. “Well, I talked and you listened.” 

“Suited me just fine.” 

Another pause, and then Jim seemed to become energised. He turned onto his side to watch the man beside him. He could just make him out in the shimmering light of the projected stars above them. 

“Have you noticed, Sebastian, that you often cut the first word out of your sentences?” 

Jim’s tone had changed, which meant so had his mood. It seemed to Seb that he was feeling playful. 

“I’ve been told,” Seb admitted. 

“It’s funny, considering you’re a writer.” 

Feeling bold and hoping he’d read Jim’s change of mood correctly, Seb grinned. 

“Have you noticed, boss, that you say ‘hm’ a hell of a lot?” 

“I don’t.” 

“You do. You sort of verge off into humming sometimes, too.” 

Jim raised an eyebrow. 

“You do it when you ask a question,” Seb elaborated. 

“Give me an example.” 

Seb cleared his throat and turned onto his side, mirroring Jim. He flashed a toothy smile, and then prepared his best Dublin accent. 

“Sebaaaaastian, don’t you think you ought to put a pair of socks on to cover your monstrous man-feet? Hm?”

Jim looked momentarily shocked by Sebastian’s daring, and then broke into a laugh. He gave Seb a slap on the arm, pretending to be offended. 

“Your Irish needs work,” he informed Sebastian, still smiling.

“Sea- baaaaa- ste- ann,” Seb repeated, trying to capture Jim’s signature drawl, the way his tongue tasted all the syllables of his name. 

“I do not say it like that,” Jim protested. 

“You bloody do.” 

“Your accent is far worse than mine.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

Jim cleared his throat, just because Sebastian had before his own impersonation. He fixed his expression into something grim and pensive, and even fixed his body language into something gruff and manly.

“You alright, boss? Yeah? Want a cuppa? I can put a pot on if you fancy it? Need anything? Boss, you seen my Othello anywhere?” 

The voice he used was so low and East End-ish that Seb scoffed out a laugh. 

“I’m not from fucking EastEnders.” 

“No,” Jim argued fairly. “You’re just a bit rough around the edges.” 

“Could have been a toff,” Seb reminded Jim teasingly, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back on them. 

“Oh, god, you would have been insufferable,” Jim murmured, eyes glinting with playfulness. 

“Can you imagine me as one of those posh pricks, though?” 

Jim shook his head. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Don’t like the idea?” 

“What can I say,” Jim admitted with a shrug. “I’ve grown used to your Estuary English.” 

“You don’t think having better diction would improve me at all?” 

Jim rolled his eyes and fixed Sebastian with an impatient and significant look. 

“I don’t think I could put up with a posh know-it-all, Sebastian.” 

Sebastian’s heart soared. He understood the meaning of Jim’s words completely. He still ranked higher than Sherlock Holmes in Jim’s estimations. Even though he’d left.

“When I first met you, you were pretty tough to understand,” Seb said, easily conjuring up Jim’s childish voice inside his head. 

“I was not.” 

“You were. You talked fast, and it was really high-pitched.” 

“You said I was like a pixie in your journal.” 

“Think the word I was looking for was leprechaun,” Seb admitted with a toothy grin.

Jim gave Sebastian’s chest a slap for good measure, although he seemed to be enjoying the banter.

“How lazy of you to fall back on Irish stereotypes.” 

“You were short, bossy, genuinely really little, Jim. I don’t think you get it. The size of your hands and feet. And they were always freezing. Used to splay them all over me as you slept. But then you had magic eyes, which threw the whole thing.”

“Magic eyes?” Jim asked curiously. 

“You know what I’m on about. They were too smart for a kid.”

Jim hummed his agreement. 

“Well, I was a child genius.” 

Sebastian’s face grew serious quite suddenly, and Jim found himself staring at his sniper, waiting for his next words, knowing they’d be important.

“You had me at the get go, boss,” Sebastian said. “You’ve always had me.”

Jim decided to ignore the second part of Sebastian’s declaration. 

“Did I really?” 

“You know how you said I was the first person that was ever kind to you?” 

Jim nodded uncertainly. “Yes.” 

“Well, you were the first kid that wasn’t afraid of me.” 

Jim threw back his head and laughed at Sebastian’s serious tones. His body shook with amusement. 

“Why would I have been afraid of you?” he demanded, still chuckling.

“The others were, because of my temper.” 

“Sebastian, you were a pussycat,” Jim told him sternly, recovering himself. “Anyone could see it.”

“I broke a boy’s jaw before I was twelve, boss.” 

“Well, he probably provoked you.” 

“You manhandled me on that first evening. You remember? You just started grabbing me and putting me where you wanted me.”

“You needed someone to tell you what to do. I was doing you a favour.”

“Yeah,” Seb admitted. “Suppose I did.”

They lapsed into silence again, a comfortable, companionable one. Sebastian could feel their old familiar closeness starting to creep back in. 

“Are you bored of the stars yet?” Jim asked curiously. 

Seb wasn’t bored, although the stars had nothing to do with it. He could talk to Jim for hours. He’d have happily stayed up all night chatting, listening to Jim’s thoughts, being teased. It reminded him of how they’d stayed up at night whispering as kids. 

“Not unless you are,” Seb answered easily. 

Jim smiled at that. He leaned over to Sebastian and lightly pecked him on the cheek.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Eleanor Moran died in October, just after Sebastian had turned twenty nine. Jim had celebrated his birthday by taking him to see a Shakespeare play at one of the best London theatres. He’d also bought his sniper a car, although Seb had seemed to appreciate the trip to see Hamlet far more than any material gift. 

Jim noticed that his blue eyes shone with excitement as the actors moved about the stage. It was the first Shakespeare play Sebastian had ever seen, and although Jim later complained about having to sit through the entire performance with him, he was glad he’d been the one to experience it with Seb. 

Jim found out about Eleanor’s death while Sebastian was out on a job briefing some of the younger staff. He felt an odd sensation in his chest as the news reached him. One he couldn’t quite understand. 

When Sebastian turned up at Conduit Street looking worn out and frustrated, all the lights in the apartment were off. At first, he panicked that something terrible had happened while he’d been away, that Jim was in danger, but that fear was soon put to rest by the flickering light of a candle in the darkened living room, and Jim’s form sitting on the sofa in front of it. 

“What’s this?” he asked gruffly, pausing in the doorway and trying to get the measure of the scene.

“Your mother is dead,” Jim revealed without any trace of feeling. 

Sebastian paused. 

“But what are you…?”

“What does it look like?” Jim asked, rolling his eyes and blowing out the match in his left hand. He placed it in Sebastian’s ashtray and gestured at the space beside him on the main sofa. 

Sebastian didn’t move from his spot. He looked worried, like he thought Jim had finally lost it completely. That irritated Jim, but he was feeling lenient enough not to snap. 

“Why?” Seb asked warily. 

Jim thought Sebastian probably already had some idea of why he’d lit the candle, but once again he remained patient. 

“It’s for Eleanor,” Jim confirmed with a short but respectful nod of his head. 

“My mum?” 

“No, for Eleanor Davies, the part-time shop minder of the Westwood boutique we live above,” he answered sarcastically. “Of course your mother, Moran.”

Seb seemed reluctant, but he sat in the place next to Jim, careful to keep a certain amount of space between them. His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. 

“Boss, you don’t have to…” 

“She brought you into the world.” 

“I know.” 

Jim hummed and watched the candle for a few moments, the way it flickered and danced. He was fascinated by fire. It was such an uncontrollable and destructive force, and the element that had been used to kill the man he’d feared the most. 

Fire was his friend. He liked the idea of burning people. 

“Any words for her?” Jim asked pleasantly. 

“Why would I have words for her?” 

“Oh, yes, silly me,” Jim declared sarcastically. “You don’t have a single word for your deceased mother. It means nothing to you. You’re totally unfeeling, just like me. You’ll probably dance on her grave later.” 

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. 

“Can we not do this?” 

“I’m doing it whether or not you approve, Sebastian. But disappear off to your cage if you want to. I doubt I’d notice the difference.” 

That hit a nerve. They’d called his cell his ‘cage’ back when the government had taken him in. Jim knew that. He also knew what it did to Sebastian to be reminded of that time, the way he’d been treated like an animal, less than human. 

“Why are you doing this?” Seb asked. 

“Your mother is dead. If you make me say it one more time because you can’t get the information through that thick skull of yours, then I’m going to lose my temper.” 

“So what?” 

“You’re callous beyond belief,” Jim sighed, shaking his head. 

Seb wanted to point out that Jim had seemed to rejoice when his own mother had committed suicide, which made this whole performance really bloody weird. But he didn’t. 

“She was an intelligent woman,” Jim elaborated. “Loyal in the end.” 

Sebastian wanted to tear off his own skin. Instead he scratched at the back of his neck and shifted, trying to calm himself down. He couldn’t take being emotionally dissected by Jim today. His foot tapped compulsively on the carpet and he pinched his thumbs. 

“Eleanor Dereham,” Jim said in a quiet voice. “Born on May the twenty first, nineteen fifty one.” 

“Christ,” Seb muttered. 

“What?” 

“Born in the fifties. Seems ages ago, doesn’t it?” 

Jim nodded his head in agreement. 

‘Well, I suppose now will feel like ages ago to the generations that come after us. It’s a good job we won’t be alive to see it.” 

“We might be about for a bit yet,” Seb pointed out. 

Jim gave Sebastian an odd look and then swiftly continued with his original train of thought. 

“You weighed eight pounds, nine ounces at birth,” Jim said. “Eleanor went into labour at four in the afternoon, and you arrived at eight. That was a quick birth, Sebastian. No complications.” 

Sebastian swallowed hard. He’d never thought about that before, all the tiny details of his life. It made him feel oddly guilty that Jim seemed to know more about his early life than he did. 

“Glad I wasn’t born a woman,” Seb said, just to fill the silence. 

“That makes two of us,” Jim agreed, and although his tone was solemn, his lips curled slightly, and his eyes glinted teasingly. 

Another pause.

“My birth went on for hours and hours,” Jim revealed suddenly, as though speaking of his childhood was something he did often, a subject Sebastian was familiar with. “Apparently I was too stubborn to show up. I almost killed my mother.” 

Jim gave an odd sort of chuckle.

“It’s a shame I didn’t die in the womb.” 

“Don’t say that,” Seb muttered, frowning. 

“Sometimes babies can die on the way out, apparently. Umbilical chord around the neck.”

“Jim…” 

“Or they can be stillborn. And then there’s cot death-” 

“Jim, shut the fuck up!” Sebastian growled, slamming his palm down on the table. The candle rattled in its holder but didn’t overbalance. 

Jim blinked at Sebastian rather resentfully. 

“I forgot you liked babies. Am I upsetting you, Moran?” 

“I don’t want to think about you dying, alright? Look, the candle’s gonna burn down. Are we doing this, or what?” 

Jim gazed into Sebastian’s eyes for a moment. In them, he could see nausea, nerves, confusion, and guarded pain. 

“We’re doing this,” Jim confirmed softly. 

“You called her Dereham.” 

“I did.” 

“She died as Moran.” 

“I don’t like to associate her with your father.” 

Sebastian could have laughed with derision. Did Jim actually care about his mother? Seriously? 

No, that was taking things too far. Jim often said he cared about nobody but himself. Respect her, though? It was looking likely. 

“You told me once,” Seb said quietly. “You said I was more like her than I know. What did you mean?” 

Jim meant that she’d married a broken man and stood loyally by his side as he treated her like shit. That she was self-sacrificing. That she was bright and resourceful, and had navigated her life as best she could in light of her circumstances. She had been intelligent and selfless enough to give Sebastian a clean break, knowing that the relationship between herself and her husband was destructive and unhealthy for a child. 

“Your hearts,” Jim revealed softly. 

“Our hearts?” 

“Yes, exactly. Now, be quiet.” 

“We’re having a moment of silence for her?” 

Jim nodded. Strangely enough, he didn’t seem particularly manic. He seemed calm. More rational than he usually was.

“Never done this before,” Seb mumbled, still twitching his right foot.

“I can tell. You don’t understand the meaning of the word ‘silence’ either.” 

“Sorry.” 

Jim ignored the apology.

“You never had a moment of silence for little old me? Never lit a candle?” 

“No,” Seb admitted. “None of that.” 

“I suppose it is rather sentimental,” Jim sighed, glancing at the candle flickering in front of him. “But I owe her. Without her, well…” 

He trailed off and hummed a mournful little tune that Seb didn’t recognise. 

“I’m nothing like her, Jim. I’m not,” Sebastian insisted. 

Jim gave Sebastian the same odd look from before and then reached out for his hand. His fingers trapped Sebastian’s wrist with surprising tenderness, and he moved his hand easily. Seb knew when he was being given a command. His body instantly obeyed. 

Jim held Sebastian’s hand over the lit candle. 

At first it barely stung at all, but then the pain started to kick in and the skin of his palm began to protest. Seb grimaced but didn’t yank his hand away, not even when he felt a blister forming painfully on his palm, the skin going raw. 

It was only when Jim spotted the pain in Sebastian’s eyes that he took pity on his sniper and pulled his hand away from the flame again. 

“Like your mother,” Jim said quietly, having proven his point. He let go of Sebastian’s hand and let Sebastian examine it. Seb blew on it and flexed his fingers, checking to see everything was still working okay. The palm was red and blistered, but his fingers responded to his commands, albeit with a sting of agony. 

Jim leaned over and kissed Sebastian on his clothed shoulder. It was just a peck, but Sebastian’s entire body flared with hope. His injured hand was momentarily forgotten. 

“Goodbye Eleanor,” Jim whispered solemnly, and then blew out the candle.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When Jim turned twenty seven in November, he and Sebastian went to an expensive restaurant overlooking the Thames, and watched the fireworks light up the night sky. 

Sebastian smoked on the porch of the restaurant, the top floor of which had been cleared out especially for their use, and Jim leaned over the railings and hummed as London exploded with noise and colour.

On the way home in the car, Jim had nestled wordlessly against Sebastian’s shoulder, and Seb had draped an arm around him.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Christmas at Conduit Street meant Jim forcing Sebastian to clear a space for his antique piano downstairs in the storage room, which was becoming more of a socialising area now, where the pair often sat and chatted. 

Jim had apparently learned how to play the piano while Sebastian had been in the army, and Seb stood by the instrument, watching as Jim’s pale fingers danced over the keys, playing mournful tunes, old classical pieces, and once, in Sebastian’s honour, an instrumental version of ‘Life on Mars’ by David Bowie which he claimed to have arranged himself. 

One night, after Seb had had a drink (a mild one), and Jim was in a good mood, Sebastian had sung along as Jim played the Bowie piece. Jim thought Sebastian’s voice was actually rather good. The next day. Seb could hardly believe it had happened, but he knew it had.

When Jim played the piano, his eyes fluttered closed and his expression softened with peaceful concentration. Seb thought he looked brilliant, sat at the piano in his suit, completely engrossed in his music.

Seb put up a few tasteful Christmas lights around the apartment, all in the shapes of stars. Jim decided that they should have a Christmas tree, and it sat in the corner of the living room. It was only small, because they both agreed anything else would get in the way, although Jim decorated it with various designer ornaments, and when Seb got a closer look at it after he was done, he noticed there were tiny glittering skulls, snowflakes, and silver baubles, although there were more unique additions too. Jim had bought a tiny wooden tiger decoration that hung on one of the lower branches for Seb, chosen himself an elaborate crown which sat in the centre of the tree, and on the very top was an angel with black wings and a beautiful, mournful expression on her face. She was tall, her hair was golden, her eyes dark, and her skin as pale as snow.

They both worked on the actual day, although in the evening they sat together in the living room with the heating on. Seb nursed a whiskey, and Jim drank red wine. They didn’t bother to watch any telly, but they put some music on and settled. Jim complained about Christmas as he crammed his mouth with the expensive chocolate Seb had bought him as one of his gifts, and Seb agreed with everything he said, his newest novel from Jim in one hand, that he drifted in and out of whenever Jim lapsed into silence. 

On Christmas night, they slept together in Jim’s bedroom. Jim kissed Sebastian chastely on the cheek before he closed his eyes.

Sebastian woke up in the morning with Jim pressed tight against his back, his cold nose squished up against his skin. He could feel Jim breathing on him, and feel The Boss’s freezing feet against the backs of his legs, his hands curled up between them.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

In January, Jim added Russia to the list of countries unofficially under his influence. Seven top Russian assassins joined their ranks, and Sebastian was charged with the task of assessing which were trustworthy and which would stab them in the backs given half the chance. 

While Jim engaged in talks with and arranged an exchange system with Mashir, the Russian criminal Sebastian had been constantly interrogated about by the British government, Seb killed three of the major assassins, and took the other four on. 

One woman, Ludmilla Dyachenko, caused him a few problems. He’d wanted to kill her, instantly distrusting her harsh face and cold eyes, but Jim told him to wait a bit, so he did. 

Sebastian refused to have her under his command, however. Instead, he added her to their freelance contacts. It wasn’t perfect, but if The Boss wanted her alive, then there was nothing he could do but obey. 

To celebrate the mighty ‘meeting of nations’, as Jim put it, they drank champagne in the apartment. Sebastian made curry, the one he’d learned the recipe for out in India, and then shoved a load of chocolate pudding in the microwave for Jim’s dessert. 

They watched crap telly, Jim with his feet shoved unceremoniously in Sebastian’s lap, and laughed more than Seb could remember having laughed for months. Jim did impersonations of the people on the television, and insulted them for the sheer hell of it. 

As Seb massaged Jim’s feet and leaned back against the sofa, he knew that even if things were never completely healed between them, at least they were mates again. 

Friends was enough. 

It had to be. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The message came on February the thirteenth. 

Jim had been out for a rare meeting in person with a new and promising client. He’d gone with Dawson and Mills for protection, while Sebastian waited on an important call from Jessica Chaplain up in York.

They’d established a good business relationship by now. Sebastian performed any task he was given to the best of his ability, and Jim trusted him with some of the more important contacts, having taught him exactly what he wanted said and how.

When Sebastian’s mobile rang, it didn’t unsettle him in the slightest. He reached for it with a sniff, and checked the number, expecting to see Jessica Chaplain’s name. 

But the number was anonymous. 

Frowning, he licked his lips and accepted the call. 

“Colonel Moran,” a man said in a Manchester accent. “Good afternoon.” 

Sebastian didn’t respond. He’d been ordered not to speak should he get an anonymous caller, in case they used voice recognition. The crackle in the background of the words made Sebastian suspect this was a recording, and not a live message. 

“We have James Moriarty in our possession. We expect ten million in exchange for his safe return. You have twenty four hours in which to transport the money to us, in note form. Details will follow, as will proof of our captive. On the understanding we receive all we ask for, your boss will be returned to you mostly unharmed. This is not a hoax. Goodbye, Colonel.” 

The moment the call ended, a picture message flashed onto Sebastian’s screen. 

It displayed Jim, unconscious, lips slightly parted, bound by the wrists, blood trickling steadily from above his left eyebrow where it looked like he’d been struck. The surroundings were dark, the floor dirty with blood and dust.

Sebastian held the mobile firmly in his palm, got up from his chair, swallowed hard, and kicked over Jim’s desk with an almighty growl.


	107. The Rescue Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With The Boss being held to ransom by an anonymous group, it falls to Sebastian to step up to the mark and orchestrate his rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This is the penultimate chapter. I've really enjoyed writing this story, and your support means so much. Every review, every single comment honestly means the world. I can't tell you how happy your words make me and how much confidence I'm gaining as a writer with your support.
> 
> I've decided to publish the final chapter on the 24th of December, as a sort of Christmassy treat. 
> 
> I really hope you'll like it. 
> 
> Lots of love, 
> 
> DemandMeNothing x

Pull yourself together, Moran. Man the fuck up and control yourself…

Sebastian now stood in the wreckage of Jim’s study, papers, pens, and various knick-knacks scattered at his feet. He couldn’t remember the exact process of destroying the room. That was a red blur. All gone now. 

He was angry. Properly angry, unlike anything he’d felt for years. For so, so many years now. 

The last time he’d felt this way, he was thirteen years old. 

Thirteen years old and Jim had been attacked by a grown man. Bruised, scratched, kicked, raped. Just a kid. Sebastian’s honourary little brother forever hurt. Wounded on the inside in ways Sebastian couldn’t even begin to understand.

Jim had been eleven. A child. A little boy trying to make some money. A little boy that hadn’t wanted to be bullied any longer and so had agreed to meet with that sick older man to try and raise his profile. He’d been ambitious then, as ever, proud of his earnings and achievements. 

Sebastian remembered the day it happened. He’d been in a bad mood. Ben stuff. He’d been thinking a lot about his feelings for men, and it had made him grumpy and irritable. 

He’d just come out of the shower with a towel draped around his waist, and he’d found Jim sitting on his bed hugging his pillow. And stupid fucking idiot that he was, he’d told Jim to ‘shut the fuck up’ when he tried to speak, and been an utter prick to him. 

His entire body washed with icy cold shame as he remembered the way he’d shouted at Jim because he’d thought Jim had read his journal. It all seemed so trivial now, so stupid. Jim had needed him. Seriously needed him. And what had he done? 

Acted like a bastard. As per usual. 

Sebastian recalled seeing Jim again after their brief separation, finally being allowed to return to him. He remembered the way Jim had burst into childish tears the moment he’d seen him, and that the little Irish boy had collapsed on the ground weeping and whimpering like the poor traumatised kid he was.

‘Hurts’, Jim had whispered, curled up on his bed, shaking and trying to cling to him with cold, tiny fingers. 

The anger then had been so strong that Sebastian felt he could have torn a person apart. He honestly believed he could have beaten a man to death, could have shoved a knife through a person’s eye, could have torn the skin from the bones of the man that had hurt Jim. 

At thirteen years old. Just thirteen. 

Ready to wound, and maim and kill. In defence of Jim.

“Your biggest mistake is making everything personal,” Jim had told him a month previously. “You can’t function at your highest capacity like that. You’ll only drain yourself.” 

Sniffing, Sebastian kicked the overturned waste paper bin to one side and stood to attention, alone in the mess of Jim’s study. 

Jim was right. He was making it personal and draining himself. It had to stop. He had to get a handle on his emotions if he was going to sort this out.

He wasn’t Sebastian Moran now. Not Sebastian Moran the person. Not the Sebastian Moran that was deeply and painfully in love with Jim Moriarty, his boss, closest friend, and ex-lover. 

He was Colonel Moran. 

And Colonel Moran was more animal than man. A military machine with the violent instincts of a predator.

Jim could no longer be Jim. No, not that little boy Sebastian had watched cry and wet the bed and dance around the bedroom and rush up to him for a clinging hug.

Jim was Moriarty. 

Moriarty. His employer and closest associate. His protection from the authorities. His commanding officer. Fortune. Terror. Rapture.

He had a duty to fix the situation. As second-in-command, all power now fell to him. He was going to have to harness the resources of Moriarty’s empire to ensure The Boss’ safe return.

His first action as Colonel Moran, having been Sebastian for ten minutes of violence, anguish, and fury, was to call one of his employees. First step: assemble your force. 

“Get Dervish, Montague, and Simmons to Location Five now,” he growled down the phone. 

The young woman on the other end didn’t need to be told twice. They all knew well enough that Colonel Moran was not to be crossed, especially not in this mood. She could hear him panting with barely suppressed violence, which didn’t bode well for anyone.

“Yes, sir,” she said obediently, and went about contacting the three men.

Sebastian stood in Jim’s ruined office and took a breather. He ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed at his forehead. The chaos of the room was doing nothing for his composure. He immediately regretted his instinctual decision to ‘throw a strop’ as Jim so condescendingly put it. There was going to he hell to pay when The Boss returned. 

He’d only called in three employees from the third highest tier, after Jim and himself. Was three enough? Too many? 

Nora Hanley was probably fourth on his list. Eddie O’Neal fifth. Should he get them on board? 

Sebastian the man wanted to send all the force he possibly could. He wanted to gather up every single person associated with the empire and put them to use; bringing Jim home safely. 

He wanted to charge in, all guns blazing, and kill every last man and woman involved in the capture and attempted humiliation of his boss. 

But Colonel Moran, with his military strategy and cool lack of attachment, thought differently.

Too many men brought into the frame meant danger. What The Boss couldn’t afford was mass exposure. 

“We never show weakness, Moran,” Jim had drawled one evening when he was feeling particularly dramatic. “Never show mercy, never compromise. The moment they spot a fraying thread, they’ll pull.” He mimed the yanking of a string, eyes manic. “And we’ll unravel…” 

Which meant only the most loyal of the highest ranks could be informed, the ones that relied upon Jim for their protection and therefore were guaranteed not to start a mutiny. And only the most disposable of men and women on the ground, because if they caught a glimpse of The Boss ‘in captivity’, Sebastian would have to kill them.

Three would do just fine. Montague, the follower, lacking the leadership skills to orchestrate an uprising, lacking personal ambition, was Sebastian’s first choice. 

Simmons, so old now that he didn’t care much for playing games, only wanted to stay part of the circle and pass on his valuable expertise, a man that deeply respected Jim and saw the empire as both his home and his key to a fulfilling ‘retirement’, was Sebastian’s second. 

Dervish was Sebastian’s reluctant third selection. The man was untrustworthy. But he went where the money was, and no other crime organisation in Europe was worth as much as Jim’s. He was bound to them by sheer selfish greed.

A suit was necessary, Seb reckoned. The Boss always liked him to meet clients dressed in his best. It gave a good impression, one of wealth, power, and influence. So as calmly as he could, he left the office. Upstairs, he changed into a dark grey suit, put on one of Jim’s black ties for luck, and chose his shined shoes. 

“When you go to battle, Sebastian, you have to wear your armour,” Jim had sung at him once, in one of his better moods. 

Sebastian sniffed, checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror, swallowed hard, and pulled himself together. Jim liked him to get into character. Colonel Moran was debauched, he was unpredictable and yet reliable, he had steel in his soul, but he was reckless. He was an animal in human form, a guard dog with higher intelligence. Immoral, resourceful, depraved. 

Colonel Moran armed himself with a British army L9A1 handgun and two of his favourite knives. Simple but effective. With a load of trained snipers at his command, he didn’t need much else.

The meeting location he’d selected was on Regent Street. It was a few minutes from the apartment, but generic enough to be used. Jim owned the entire surrounding area, and so no questions would be asked. 

As he waited in the luxuriously furnished main room, with a large table in the centre, Sebastian paced and cracked his knuckles. His expression was grim, decided. No second chances today. No exceptions made. Any man or woman that failed him, and thus The Boss, was going to meet a sticky end, no matter how valuable they were.

Dervish arrived first, early as always. Sebastian had never taken to him. The man was in his late thirties, although he seemed far older. He was angular, with a sharp, thin nose, and eyes that were too close together. This was emphasised by his thick, round glasses. He was currently sporting a goatee, which only made Seb want to distrust him more. Jim called Dervish a snake, because he had the uncanny ability to slither away from blame, and yet always turn up when he thought there was a profit in it for him. 

Given half the chance, Dervish would jump ship, but one thing Jim had taught Sebastian about Charlie Dervish, was that although he was a truly foul human being, he was a businessman at heart, and business sense would just about keep him under control.

The man greeted him respectfully, and picked himself a seat at the long table. He hardly made eye contact, which Sebastian was thankful for in this instance, because he was convinced he was going to break someone’s jaw with just the slightest provocation. 

Montague was next. He was a dark skinned man with a shaved head, broad shoulders, and a similar demeanour to Sebastian. He’d been plucked from Hackney a while ago, having trained with the police and then turned to the ‘Dark Side.’ His knowledge of the police and procedure was extremely valuable and Jim found his fall from grace rather romantic. Sebastian respected Montague, and he was aware the feeling was mutual. The man entered the room with a low, “Boss,” and then took his seat next to Dervish.

The last man to appear was elderly Simmons. His face was wrinkled all over, and he stooped as he walked. He was frail, and had grey hair sticking out of his nostrils and ears. Jim had recruited Simmons very early on apparently. The man had been something of a name in the London crime circles back in the fifties, and his expertise was useful.

When the men were assembled, Sebastian sniffed and turned his attention to the table, curling his lips with fierce determination. 

“Everything said in this room remains between us.” Sebastian began. “One word of this gets out, and I’ll see the man with the big mouth has his tongue torn out, so he can’t open his gob again, is that understood?”

He remained on his feet. Not only did it emphasise his rank, but it helped him remain calm. He couldn’t sit, not while Jim was in danger.

“Yeah, sir,” Montague grunted in his rough, Hackney accent, deep and strong. 

Dervish nodded his head wordlessly, and Simmons scoffed. The old man was getting the measure of Colonel Moran, it seemed, and trying to assess his leadership capabilities. It irritated Sebastian that the old fool thought he could sit in judgment when he was well past his own best, but there wasn’t time to remind him who was in charge now. That could come later. And it would.

“The Boss is being held ransom by an anonymous group,” Sebastian announced. He spoke firmly, like this was just another job for him, just another duty. “I was contacted less than an hour ago. They’ve given us twenty four hours to hand over ten million in cash.” 

None of the men spoke. Simmons looked thoughtful, Dervish impartial, Montague grave. 

“Are we thinking it’s a rogue government group?” Simmons asked, scratching his chin. 

“Not a clue,” Colonel Moran responded. “On instinct, I’m going to say probably not.” 

Montague nodded his head, taking that in. Simmons continued to look thoughtful. Dervish’s eyes flickered between every man in the room.

“I need the best from sniper teams one to six,” Sebastian commanded. 

Simmons laughed in his old, wheezy way, and then broke into a coughing fit. Montague’s dark eyes met Sebastian’s, looking uncertain. 

“It can’t be done, boss. Logistically speaking,” Montague said respectfully.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. Whenever anyone told The Boss something couldn’t be done, he hissed at them or made them pay, then insured his initial plan was carried out regardless of how difficult it was to achieve.

“Have they got better offers?” Sebastian snarled, turning on Montague. 

“Grahams and Wyvill are on jobs down in Kent,” Montague explained, his voice soothing and low.

“So bring them back to the city,” Sebastian growled. “I don’t give a shit what they’re doing, or why. I need our ten best marksmen and women here pronto.” 

“Colonel, we could always use two full sniper teams? It would be less selective, but far easier to organise.” Dervish suggested.

It was tempting to go for quantity as well as quality, but Sebastian couldn’t risk that many people seeing The Boss. He was going to have to keep this particular operation hush hush, and hope that Jim’s captors did the same for fear of repercussions.

“I want Grahams, Wyvill, Sanderson, Cole, Doney, Cheng, and Antos on this,” Sebastian continued firmly, using his best military voice, the one that meant no nonsense, and absolutely no backchat. 

“Rachel Tiago could do it, sir,” Montague suggested, going through a list on his mobile phone. “I’ve had her up here recently on the Mayfair job. I know she’s new, but I think she’s up to it. Rayleigh Carson’s in range, too. I can have her here in half an hour or so.” 

Sebastian nodded. 

“And why couldn’t we just give them the required amount?” Dervish asked in his slimy voice, pursing his lips.

Simmons rolled his eyes and answered that for Sebastian. 

“Are you an idiot, boy? You can’t just go handing out ransom to any Tom, Dick, and Harry that fancy dipping their hands into our pockets! In my day, we’d never have done it.” 

Dervish bristled and fixed his glasses back on his nose looking offended. 

“The Boss is our protection from the law, as Colonel Moran so eloquently said. Surely if we get him back, we can make the money again tenfold?” he insisted, sounding prickly at having been undermined by an old man.

“I’ll come over there and clump you one in a minute!” old Simmons threatened, shaking his head so that the flap of skin beneath his jaw waggled. “You got yourself some business knowledge, boy, but by god, you’ve no common sense. Good thing The Boss never chose you for his second-in-command. We’d be down the drain faster than you could say ‘life sentence for fraud, arson, murder, drug trafficking, and grievous bodily harm.’” 

“Colonel Moran, sir,” Montague cut in, interrupting Simmons and Dervish. “You’ll be wanting a distraction. How ‘bout I organise something generic down the other end of London?” 

Sebastian was glad of Montague’s presence. He always knew how best to manipulate the police force. The man was probably his favourite member of staff because he did as he was told without fuss. 

“Do it,” he commanded. “I want this to go under the radar.”

In his pocket, Sebastian’s phone buzzed. 

Everyone went silent and watched as Colonel Moran pulled his mobile out of his pocket and took a look at the message he’d just been sent. 

It was a simple address and time. The Park Lane Mews hotel. Midnight. 

Sebastian relayed the information to the three men in the room and snarled as he considered what that meant. Jim would be in their possession for another eight hours, even if they’d decided they didn’t want to risk keeping him all night.

“So much for twenty four hours. They’re getting impatient. So, Colonel,” Simmons wheezed, breaking the dangerous silence and daring to address Moran, even now, in his moment of fury. “Are you going to meet with them one on one? Or are you sending in a representative?” 

Sebastian paused. He hadn’t considered that. He was letting himself get personal again. And that couldn’t happen. 

“I’ll go in,” he decided gruffly. 

Simmons nodded wisely, clearly approving of the choice. 

“Dervish,” Sebastian said, turning to the thin man. “I’ll need explosives.” 

“I can certainly get you some,” he agreed vaguely. “I’ll check with my suppliers and contact you with what’s available.”

“So you’ll be using an ultimatum?” Simmons commented, sounding impressed. “They hand The Boss over or they all go up?” 

We all go up, more like, Sebastian thought. I’m going to be in that building too... 

Colonel Moran didn’t respond, but Simmons laughed anyway, apparently deeply amused by the daring recklessness of the move.

“I’m going to send details through to each of you. I expect you in position the moment I give the order,” Sebastian growled.

Montague nodded, as did Simmons. But it was the look that flashed momentarily across Dervish’s face that made Sebastian snarl. He placed both of his palms down on the surface of the table, leaning on them as he surveyed the men.

“Let me get one thing very clear,” Colonel Moran said lowly, dangerously calm. “If The Boss goes down, then the empire goes with him. He’s the captain of this ship. Right now, he’s the only person standing between you and a life sentence in prison. He dies, and what d’you think happens to you?” 

Colonel Moran paused for emphasis. It was what The Boss would have done. 

“He’s the one shielding your details from the big dogs, and if he goes, I’m sure as hell not sticking around to protect you.” 

Dervish’s nose twitched. 

“If any single one of you decides to get clever, to move against him, I’ll have you flayed alive. Is that understood?” Sebastian finished. 

“Yes, sir,” Dervish said swiftly. 

“Colonel Moran,” nodded Montague. 

“Of course,” said Simmons.

Sebastian sniffed and stood up straight again, adopting military posture. 

“Get to it then,” he ordered.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Before the main event, there was the discipline to deliver. Two executions. 

Harriet Mills and Alan Dawson were bound and discarded in a nondescript warehouse twenty minutes away from Conduit Street. 

Sebastian stalked into the echoing space, military boots heavy on the ground. He paused in front of the unfortunate employees and cleared his throat. 

The pair of them looked up at him, struggling to manage it, because of the way they were bound, wrists together, legs together, tape across their mouths, wet with saliva where they’d presumably tried to scream for help or plead for mercy.

“You were charged with protecting The Boss. We pay you in that capacity. You’ve failed us.” 

Harriet Mills whimpered, green eyes wide and terrified. Alan Dawson remained defiant, even in his pathetic position on the ground, at Colonel Moran’s feet. 

Sebastian snarled and pulled out one of his knives. He bent to grab Harriet’s jaw roughly. She sobbed, thinking she was going to have her throat slit, but instead, Sebastian deftly sliced through the duct tape over her mouth. He nicked her lips in the process, leaving a pathetic dribble of blood running down her chin. 

“What happened?” Sebastian demanded, voice low, dangerously quiet. 

Harriet was crying too much to speak. But Colonel Moran felt no pity. This woman had failed The Boss. 

“You’ll give me an answer, Mills, or I’ll stick my knife through one of your lovely green eyes.” 

Sebastian hadn’t consciously used the word ‘lovely’. That one was from Jim. He was turning on sinister charm, just like The Boss always did.

Shuddering, she forced out the words. 

“Colonel Moran, sir, we never meant for-“ 

“No, I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want to know how you managed to fuck up so spectacularly.” 

Alan Dawson made a stifled noise and tried to raise himself to his knees unsuccessfully. Sebastian tore the duct tape off his face in one sudden movement, leaving his skin red and raw. 

“There were too many,” Dawson put in defensively, trying not to grimace. “We did all we could.” 

Sebastian’s lips curled. 

“What are you paid for, Dawson?” 

“Colonel Moran, sir…” 

“What are you paid for?” Moran repeated. 

Mills had started to sob again. The noise was nauseating. If she didn’t shut the fuck up soon Sebastian was going to put a bullet through her skull. 

“Protecting The Boss,” Dawson admitted.

“And you think you did that, do you?” 

The snivelling intensified, and so Sebastian pulled his handgun out of its holster and shot Harriet Mills in the face. Satisfyingly, the noise stopped, and in its place was a single sickening thump as her body slumped on the ground. Sebastian barely glanced at it. 

“Sir, I can make it up to you!” Dawson panted, shaking as he watched how his associate bled out on the cold ground, her skull blown open, her face no longer recognisable due to the angle of the bullet that had torn through her features.

“Can you?” Sebastian asked. “Let’s see. Give me all the info you’ve got on the people that took him.” 

Dawson frowned, thinking quickly, trying vainly to save himself. 

“They weren’t government, sir. If they were, they looked rogue. Unorganised. Colonel Moran, sir, they knocked us out cold.” 

Sebastian felt fury building beneath his skin. 

“And did they knock The Boss out cold too, Dawson?” 

The man shivered. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Colonel Moran sniffed and paced a few steps. 

“Any other information you think might save your life?” he demanded. “Because I’m all ears.” 

“N-no, sir. Nothing. B-but I can investigate! You know me, sir! This is a one-off! I’ve served The Boss loyally for two years. I’m trustworthy, sir! The Boss wouldn’t want me dead-“ 

Sebastian snarled and shot Dawson in the stomach. 

“Yeah, well thanks to you, Dawson, The Boss isn’t around right now to fight your corner,” he said lowly, with a twist of a smile. 

The man twitched and whined as blood began to gush out of his stomach. His arms moved compulsively to attempt to hinder the blood loss, but the way they were bound together made this impossible.

“Sir, please…” he begged, wanting a bullet in the brain to put an end to the agony. 

But Colonel Moran was anything but merciful. He dialed the clean-up team, and left the scene. 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

It was five minutes to midnight on February the thirteenth when Sebastian turned up outside the Park Lane Mews hotel. He climbed out of a long black vehicle and stood on the street for a moment, sniffing in the air. 

This was it. 

He was being watched by numerous snipers in positions he himself had chosen for them, and so he had to play his part. If he crumbled, so would everyone else.

In his left hand he held a grey briefcase, but that was all he carried. As tempting as it was to enter the building brandishing a weapon, he needed to play it cool. Right now, he was The Boss. He was the man the organisation was watching, following, obeying.

The front door was left unlocked, and lights could be seen inside the hotel. Sebastian could hear people on the upstairs levels, but the lower floor was all but deserted for the night. 

The place was decorated tastefully for Valentine’s Day. As Sebastian stalked through the entrance hall, on his guard, he passed various floral displays in pink, white and red, and numerous heart-shaped decorations. 

He couldn’t have thought of a worse setting for what had to be done. There was no way he wanted to die surrounded by images of cherubs and embracing couples.

Nobody sat at the reception desk, although the lights were on down a corridor to the right, which he saw as his invitation to go in that direction. 

He was far too hot, in his suit and massive designer coat, one of Jim’s purchases on his behalf, which he hardly ever wore, but he didn’t want to waste any time. The faster this was over with, the faster he’d get Jim back.

Sebastian walked through an open door, and down a steep flight of stairs that seemed to lead to a basement level that hadn’t been apparent from the outside. It was where he’d assumed the hotel kept their food and laundry, but instead, he ended up in an open area, bare and dark, in the middle of which was a small table with a single man sitting at it.

“You’re on time,” the man called over. This wasn’t the person Sebastian had heard talking on the recording. That man had been from Manchester, but this one was posh and reasonably well groomed. He was bald, with small dark eyes, and a long curved nose. His tie was red silk. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Colonel Moran growled, approaching the table confidently. He stalked over and pulled up the chair opposite the man. Oddly tentatively, he sat down, refusing to lean back against the structure, instead sitting up straight. 

“And you have the cash?” the man asked, eyeing the briefcase Sebastian had placed on the ground beside him.

Sebastian licked his lower lip and reached down for the item. He picked it up with both hands, holding it evenly and placing it down on the tabletop with intentional care, facing the man. 

Looking confused, the bald man glanced at the briefcase. 

“No, you open it,” he said swiftly. “For all I know, this could be weaponised.” 

“If you haven’t got the balls,” Colonel Moran grunted, reaching for the briefcase and spinning it so the pair of metallic catches were now facing him. 

He clicked it open, keeping his eyes on the man opposite him as the lid sprung up.

“Want a look at what I’ve brought you?” Colonel Moran asked, tone heavy with sarcasm. 

The bald man nodded, and Sebastian turned the case again. 

“There’s nothing in here,” the man said, sounding confused. 

“You catch on quick,” Moran said with a curl of his lips. “Thing is, I don’t do ransoms.” 

“Then we’ll kill your boss,” the bald man responded instantly, closing the briefcase and glaring across the table at Colonel Moran. 

“Nah, you won’t.” 

“We will. Those were the terms of our agreement.” 

Sebastian sniffed and shook his head. 

“Don’t think you will, actually. I’d bet money on it.” 

Impatient now, but also looking nervous, the bald man swallowed and fixed his tie. 

“And what do you think is going to happen, Colonel?” 

Sebastian grinned, the smile that showed too many teeth and made his eyes crinkle at the sides. Not with happiness, but with suppressed violence. Jim called it his ‘unbalanced’ smile, because his mouth contorted into something wide and toothy and animalistic.

“I think you’re going to hand him over, because if you don’t, I’ll blow this place sky high.” 

With that, Sebastian unbuttoned his black designer coat, revealing a Semtex vest covered in wires. The man automatically shifted away, surprised and taken aback by this new development. 

Oddly, Sebastian noticed he looked more confused than anything else. Out of his depth. Which was odd for a man that was here for a one-on-one meeting with Moriarty’s second-in-command. 

“You’re insane,” the bald man declared, his body language growing protective. He was unsettled by the explosives. He was a coward at heart. Or, at least, his life meant something to him. 

“Been called worse,” Colonel Moran admitted, now relaxing back against the chair, if only to see the bald man wince as the vest was put under moderate pressure.

“You’re bluffing.” 

“Want to try me?” 

Sebastian grinned crookedly, although his blue eyes remained hard and unyielding. 

He was bluffing. Of course he was. There was no way in hell he’d hurt Jim. Sebastian Moran loved Jim Moriarty too much. 

But Colonel Moran was taking this meeting, and Colonel Moran would have tried just about anything, gambled his own life on the roll of a dice, just for the sheer hell of it.

It was the reputation of Colonel Moran that Sebastian was counting on to get him through this. The fear he inspired in people. His unpredictability.

“The ball’s in your court,” he told the man, still smirking, only because it unsettled the person opposite him. “How badly do you need ten million?” 

“And how do I know you’re serious? How do I know you’re really ready to set that off?” 

“You don’t,” Moran admitted. “Part of the fun.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and once again watched the bald man wince at the movement. 

“I’ve got places to be,” Colonel Moran said, stretching into the air now. “You want to die in a basement?”

“I need to talk to my people,” the bald man muttered, looking around him as though help might come. But none did. It didn’t look like he had back-up, or if he did, they were unwilling to approach the explosives.

“No can do. This is you and me, buddy-boy,” Sebastian said confidently.

“We need to discuss our ransom.” 

“Yeah, and I need a good shag. We don’t all get what we want. You keep this between us, or we both go up.”

The bald man held barely concealed panic in his eyes. Yet again, Sebastian was struck with how unprofessional he was. He shouldn’t have been showing that much fear or unease. 

“You’d die for ten million?” the man asked, throat sounding dry with nerves. 

“Die for a tenner, me.” 

“I’m not sure I believe you.” 

Sebastian leaned forward, and the man flinched back. Colonel Moran threw his head back and laughed, flashing his teeth. 

“You ever hear of my adventures in India? Afghanistan? Germany? France? America?”

“Some of them.” 

“Followed a tigress down some piping once. They called me mad then, too, but here I am.” 

The man took a deep breath. 

“Basher always wins?” 

“Oh, so you’ve heard that saying, have you?” Sebastian crowed. That one had started up at Jim’s suggestion. It wasn’t a bad reputation to have really, but it still felt odd to have it recited to him having been there when Jim thought it up.

The man licked his lips, nervously glancing at the Semtex vest. He’d heard the saying many times. He knew that Colonel Moran was violent, got a kick out of danger to his person, and was enough of a misanthropist to pack it all in if it meant leaving in a blast of fire and glory and loyalty.

Sebastian could see the cogs ticking. He had taken the power from the situation, just as he’d planned. Jim would have been proud. Would be proud. When Sebastian got him out of this mess.

“You know of Moriarty, you know what he’s capable of, what he’s done,” Sebastian muttered. “You know the government can’t touch him, that he’s on the top of the pile, that he does all this for kicks.”

“Of course we know that,” the man admitted, now looking like he wanted to escape the scene. He was in over his head, that much was certain. 

“So what sort of a person do you reckon Moriarty’s gonna pick as his right hand?” 

The man paused. The implication was clear. Moriarty would pick someone insane, just like himself.

“You’d kill Moriarty if you set that off. He’s in this building.” 

“Kill you, too.”

“I’d heard you were loyal.” 

“If you think I’m gonna let you keep The Boss trussed up in your back room then you’ve got another thing coming. I don’t want to kill him, no, ‘course not. But I will if you won’t cooperate, ‘cause I reckon you value your worthless life more than you value ten million pounds.”

The bald man stood up slowly and nodded his head. Then he thought better of leaving, seeing Moran’s expression. He reached for his phone and dialed a number.

“Send him out,” he said quietly, ending the correspondence the moment Sebastian clicked his fingers to demonstrate that was enough contact with whoever was holding his boss.

After a mere thirty seconds of silence, a shadowy silhouette appeared behind the door in the corner. It creaked open to reveal Jim Moriarty, looking entirely unconcerned by his predicament, wearing his dirtied suit from earlier, with dried blood on his forehead, just above his left eyebrow. 

Colonel Moran got respectfully to his feet and approached his boss. He could not, in present company, show any sign of affection, being in character, but he handed Jim his black coat, which The Boss draped around himself. 

“We’ve got the place surrounded by our people,” Sebastian growled at the bald man, who was now staring at Jim with an expression Seb couldn’t read. “You try anything on our way out, and you’re done for. Now let’s just pretend this unfortunate little incident never happened, shall we?” 

“I won’t talk,” the man whispered. 

But he was pleading with Jim, not Sebastian. 

“I won’t talk. I won’t do anything.” 

The Boss ignored him. 

“Come along, Moran,” Jim said quietly. “Time to go.” 

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

When they were out in the open, Jim, having stolen a large quantity of Valentine’s Day chocolates from reception to apparently eat in the car on the way back to Conduit Street, tilted his head to one side and looked his sniper up and down. 

“Do you want to explain that impressive little number you’re wearing?” he demanded, gesturing at the Semtex vest.

Sebastian waved at the black car, which seemed to appear from the shadows at the sight of Moran and Moriarty emerging into the night. 

“It’s a dud,” Sebastian explained as he led Jim to the vehicle, flicking at one of the wires. 

“Shame, I was expecting something slightly more daring.” 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and looked far too proud of himself. 

“You know how I hate to disappoint you, boss,” he said cryptically.

For a moment, Jim said nothing, and then Jim’s eyes widened with gleeful understanding.

Sebastian pulled out his mobile phone and spoke into it lowly.

“Clear.” 

An almighty, muted rumble exploded in the basement of the hotel behind the two men. The pavement seemed to shake, but aside from broken windows on the front of the building, no other sign of destruction was immediately evident to the outside world. The people on the upstairs levels screamed. 

“Where were the real explosives?” Jim asked with a chuckle as Sebastian opened the door for him so he could climb into the car. 

“Briefcase,” Seb admitted, grinning back as he climbed in beside his boss. “That daring enough for you?”

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Jim’s demeanour on the journey home was odd to say the least. He stared ahead of him, saying nothing, only cramming chocolates into his mouth one by one and carelessly dropping the pink and red shiny wrappers on the floor whenever he pleased.

The silence disturbed Sebastian. He was terrified the worst had happened. 

“Did they… hurt you, boss?” he asked carefully. 

Jim looked both vague and mildly surprised by the question. 

“No, Sebastian.” 

“They knocked you out, though. That cut on your head’ll need seeing to…” 

Sebastian reached out. He hadn’t even been intending to touch Jim’s skin, just gesture at the injury. But Jim flinched away and grabbed his wrist with a painfully tight grip, nails digging in.

“Do. Not. Touch,” he hissed. 

Sebastian swallowed. And then he panicked. Because it reminded him of before, all those years ago… 

“If they’ve hurt you-“ 

“Moran.” 

“I swear to god, boss. I’ll fucking well-“ 

“Fucking well what? You’ve already blown them up.” 

Sebastian wasn’t deterred. 

“Families. They’ll have families. Friends. Reputations. Cash put away. Property.” 

“My, my, now you are sounding like me,” Jim drawled. 

But Sebastian couldn’t appreciate the compliment. His mind was fired up, charging forward. 

“I’m upping your security.” 

“Fine,” Jim sighed impatiently. 

“I’ve killed Mills and Dawson.” 

“It’s not much of a loss,” Jim said without feeling.

A silence grew, then, as the car drove down Conduit Street. The street was mostly deserted now, the shops all closed up because of the early hour. Sebastian was glad, because if he’d had to see the Valentine’s Day themed displays on the drive home, he thought he might have cracked under the strain.

As the vehicle pulled up outside of the darkened Westwood boutique, Sebastian cleared his throat.

“From now on I’m by your side twenty four seven,” he declared.

Jim moved so quickly that the sharp slap to his face took Sebastian completely by surprise. The force of it knocked his head against the glass of the car window. 

“Don’t be unrealistic,” Jim reprimanded him quietly. “I expect better of you. Paranoia is unhealthy.” 

Sebastian ignored the stinging of his cheek and licked his lips. 

“If they did anything to you in there, Jim, I swear…” 

But Jim wasn’t listening. He was already climbing elegantly out of the car. Swearing under his breath, Sebastian ripped off his fake explosive vest and followed suit. 

Jim was already at the door, letting himself in, when Sebastian reached him and the car drove off into the night. 

“I’ll make them pay,” Sebastian promised lowly. 

The Boss didn’t respond. He offered no reassurance or further information. 

Sebastian locked both security doors behind them, and the street noise disappeared. They were left in total silence as the warmth and smell of their apartment greeted them. The entrance hall was comfortingly familiar, and Sebastian’s stomach settled slightly to be home again.

Jim was still staring at the ground, hiding his face, walking just that bit ahead of Sebastian. 

But then he stopped, quite suddenly, and his shoulders began to shake. 

Horrified, Sebastian swallowed. 

“Boss? Jim? You okay?” 

He couldn’t be crying. Jim didn’t cry. Jim believed crying was a weakness. Crying disgusted him in just the same way open emotion did. What had happened to cause him to abandon those principles so suddenly? What had he endured? 

Just as Sebastian reached out to place his hand comfortingly on his boss’ shoulder, offering silent support, Jim spun around. 

He wasn’t crying after all.

He was laughing. Almost hysterical with a wild sort of mirth. His eyes were bright, and his pale face was flushed with manic joy.

“Oh, Sebastian,” he drawled, forcing the words through his chuckling. “You didn’t honestly /believe/ that little charade, did you?”


	108. Doubt Truth To Be A Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian finds out the abduction was a sham, and Jim wants to push Seb's buttons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This is it. The final chapter. Thank you to everyone that has supported this story. I've loved writing it, and I really appreciate your reviews and kind words. (And still do, if you have any feedback having read it all).
> 
> This story started out as something small and sort of grew, but I'm pleased with the direction it took, and I think it's reached its natural conclusion. 
> 
> Merry Christmas! 
> 
> DemandMeNothing. x

“What did you think they were doing? Raping me like when I was eleven?” 

Sebastian stood stock-still, rooted to the spot. He felt dazed, as though he’d been struck. As usual, Jim had pulled his safety and security out from under him, and left him staggering not to show weakness and let Jim down. 

Jim, on the contrary, looked energised, manic. He was grinning, displaying small white teeth. His eyebrows were raised expectantly. He didn’t look like a kidnap victim who’d been held against his will, because that wasn’t what he was. He looked thrilled with himself. Triumphant.

“Did you think I needed my big strong ‘Bastian to save me? Oh, darling. How adorable. How sickeningly sweet…”

Trying to recover, Sebastian sniffed and swallowed. Get it together, Moran. Don’t snap. That’s what he wants…

“Pathetic,” Jim continued, waving his hand about dismissively. “Worthless.” 

Sebastian snarled. He could feel his body reacting to that insult. It took a lot of self control to keep himself in check. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to try and ease the tension.

He’d been made a fool of, just like in the army. Just like when the regiment turned on him. 

All those old tensions were rising to the surface, and it was a struggle to keep them contained. Already, Sebastian could feel he was losing the battle.

“Oh, this is new,” Jim crowed, laughing. “Look at you. You want to hit me, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Shut the fuck UP.” 

Jim didn’t shut up. He grinned and decided to give his sniper another little push.

“This is the point when you’d usually snap, isn’t it? Very good, darling. I’m impressed. But what if I took it further? What if I were to say… daddy issues?”

Sebastian took steady breaths, but it was too much. Overwhelming him. The verbal and emotional onslaught after what he’d dealt with already was pushing him over the edge. He could feel himself slipping…

“You don’t have the guts,” Jim hissed nastily, gaining confidence, baiting him.

Seb growled, fists clenching at his sides, knuckles white.

“Maybe if you hit me I’ll love you again?” Jim simpered theatrically, batting his eyelashes. “Maybe if you weren’t such a FUCKING COWARD I might just give you another chance...” 

“I’m warning you-” 

Jim threw back his head and laughed spitefully.

“Oh, is that what you’re doing? Looks to me like you’re about to cry.” 

Sebastian sniffed swiftly. He tried to clear any and all emotion from his face. Colonel-mode… 

But it wasn’t working. Somehow, he wasn’t strong enough. Jim knew how to push his buttons. He knew how to do that too fucking well.

“I don’t cry,” Sebastian grunted. 

Well, that wasn’t strictly true, Jim mused. Sebastian didn’t cry while awake, no, he was too well trained for that. But he most certainly shed a few tears in his sleep, when the nightmares claimed him. Jim had grown accustomed to it by now.

“Coward,” Jim hissed. 

It was what his Father called him in his dreams. What the regiment yelled at him as he was marched off to his superiors. It was too much. 

Sebastian’s arm shot out, and for a moment, Jim closed his eyes, anticipating the blow. But Seb’s fist collided with the wall about an inch to the side of Jim’s left ear with a sickening crunch. 

Silence. 

Jim tentatively cracked an eye open, then blinked. His body language changed in an instant as he examined the way Sebastian’s chest heaved, the way he bared his teeth with barely suppressed fury. He glanced at Sebastian’s face with mild interest, and then turned his head to examine the wall just behind him and to one side. There was blood on the wallpaper from Sebastian’s knuckles. 

“Coward,” Jim repeated, this time singing the insult. 

Pushing Sebastian when he was already teetering on the edge of violent rage was a dangerous thing to do, but it seemed the sniper was too loyal to harm him. He wanted to, that was certain. Jim could read that in his blue eyes. But he wouldn’t do it. Not like this. At the moment, Jim could see Sebastian was fighting the urge to run, to flee the scene and calm himself down, to hold the red mist at bay. But Jim’s carefully chosen insult had paralysed him. He couldn’t run without looking like the coward he’d been called. 

It was an experiment Jim thought it was high time he gave a trial run. And what better opportunity than this, when Sebastian was emotionally drained, fired up, and needing to release adrenaline all at once? 

“Not a coward,” Seb insisted. 

“Prove it.”

But Sebastian didn’t prove it. He rubbed his knuckles and sucked on the blood left there. That had been close enough for him. Dangerously close. He’d almost hurt The Boss. Almost wounded Jim. Almost. 

But he hadn’t succumbed. 

“Didn’t you enjoy my little game?” Jim continued, backing his way down the hall. “I thought you’d like it, getting to be in charge for once. First-in-command. Let’s face it, it’s the only time you’ll ever be the priority. You’re useless on your own, aren’t you? Just a weak little boy. A weak little tin soldier that nobody wants.” 

Game? Fucking game? Sebastian had been ready to die in that place. He’d risked it all. All for Jim. Everything. 

“You shit,” Sebastian found himself growling, eyes narrowing with aggression. “You fucking piece of shit!” 

“Didn’t you enjoy your moment in the spotlight? Leading the charge?”

“Enjoy it? Are you mental? You think I get off on this stuff?” 

“You like a touch of danger, sweetheart. It gives you your kicks.” 

Sebastian shook his head firmly. 

“No. No way, boss. Not like this. Not with you on the line. Never like that.”

“Oh, yes, the hero complex. How could I have forgotten?” 

Jim sounded ponderous, like this was all some massive joke to him. Like Sebastian hadn’t been ripped to shreds internally over the past day. Like he hadn’t prepared himself to meet his death in the service of The Boss.

“Shut it.” 

“But you were too late when I was a child, weren’t you? You let me get hurt. With old Stanley. Hm? It was your fault, really…” 

With his worst fear realised, Sebastian’s resolve finally broke. He felt it snap inside his veins, felt his body lose control. He lunged at Jim, but his boss ducked easily out of the way, apparently anticipating the move. Cackling, he stuck his tongue out, like some goddamn fucking kid throwing a strop, and then ran for it. 

Jim rushed down the corridor, giggling, and darted into the living room, disappearing from sight. 

And Sebastian found himself following him, yelling as he went, smacking his hands on the walls to try and release some of his fury. 

He needed his release. He needed some answers. He needed some fucking respect. He needed… something.

Sebastian caught up with his boss just outside of the study. Jim tried to dodge away from his arms again, but this time Sebastian was ready. He yanked Jim back by his posh tie, leaving Jim coughing and spluttering, and then shoved him roughly against the closed door of the study, banging his head on the wood as he did so. 

The air was knocked from Jim’s lungs, and he made a short noise of surprise. His eyes seemed dazed from the blow, and his eyelids fluttered as he focussed on keeping consciousness.

“Oh, darling,” Jim managed to wheeze out, coughing and swallowing to try and force the waver out of his voice. “Did you think lovely baby brother Jim was scared without you?” 

“Shut. It,” Sebastian growled, shoving Jim bodily into the door once again. It was easy to do. The Boss didn’t weigh much. 

But Jim had no intention of ‘shutting it’. He had to get the last word. No matter what that meant. Nobody silenced Jim Moriarty. Nobody. Not even Colonel Moran in a rage.

“I know all about your meeting, how you plotted away like a proper leader. How you called in our finest. I’ve had Simmons reporting to me from the start. He was quite impressed.” 

So old man Simmons knew? All along? All that fucking time he’d been in on it?

“Shut your fucking gob, Jim. I’m warning you!” 

“You’re weak. Your emotions make you weak. I bet you couldn’t even-“ 

What Sebastian couldn’t even have done was unclear, because The Boss was sharply cut off as the air reaching his lungs began to decrease rapidly. Before he could register quite what was happening, Sebastian’s massive, rough hands were wrapped around his throat, and he was squeezing. Hard. 

“You. Wouldn’t. D-dare,” Jim managed to breathe out, eyes wild even as they watered. His face was reddening, and he could feel his consciousness starting to slip from him.

“Don’t fucking push me,” Sebastian growled, trying to sound intimidating.

“You. Coward…” 

“Shut the FUCK up!”

Jim’s vision was going fuzzy at the edges. He could hardly focus. His chest was burning, and his body was screaming for oxygen. Would Sebastian strangle him to death? It was unlikely. But he’d certainly squeeze his neck until he passed out, and Jim wasn’t going to allow that to happen. He couldn’t. That was defeat.

He forced himself to keep his eyes open, even though tears were streaking down his cheeks against his will. He focussed on Sebastian’s blue eyes, narrowed his own, and using all the strength he could muster, he spat right into Seb’s face.

In the moment of surprise and disgust in which Sebastian loosened his grip, Jim kicked Sebastian in the shin, hard enough to bruise, and then kneed him in the groin. 

As Sebastian groaned and fell backwards, Jim gave him an almighty shove and then ran for it once again.

But Jim underestimated Sebastian’s ability to block out pain. His second-in-command pushed himself up off the floor and staggered to his feet. He ran after Jim with another yell of frustration, swearing obscenities as he tried to catch up with his boss.

Giggling with the thrill of their ‘game’, Jim darted up the stairs, using the bannister to propel himself along. He could hear Sebastian gaining on him, those heavy stomping footfalls on the stairs behind him. 

When they reached the upstairs level, Jim was forced to admit he was trapped. He realised a second too late that in the moment it would take to open his bedroom door, get inside, and lock it again, Sebastian would have caught up with him. 

So instead of attempting to run, he spun on the spot, and was faced with the sight of a furious, aggressive, and absolutely-taken-over-by-the-red-mist, Sebastian Moran, hurtling up the stairs and heading right for him. 

Jim thought fast. He reached out for the decorative table on the landing, picked up the designer candlestick he’d purchased because it complimented the elaborate gold picture frames in his bedroom, brandished it like a bat, and swung it right at Sebastian’s head as the man reached him. 

It should have broken his skull, but it didn’t. It didn’t, because Sebastian put his arm up at the last minute, and it took the impact for him. Also, because Jim hadn’t swung the item quite as hard as he could have.

Knocking the item out of Jim’s hands, Sebastian grabbed his boss by the jacket, held him up so only the tips of his toes were brushing the carpet, and pushed him bodily against his bedroom door… which swung open unexpectedly. 

Jim let out an undignified squeal as he tumbled backwards, and even Sebastian lost his footing and followed suit, although the only noise he let out was a grunt as he collided with the floor. 

But instinctively, Sebastian had rolled to one side, so he wouldn’t hurt Jim as they fell. It was the moment Jim knew he’d won this. Sebastian was too well trained to hurt him truly. He didn’t want to cause any permanent harm. 

Jim scrambled to his feet. Sebastian did likewise just a second later, but Jim took advantage of that second, and gave his sniper an almighty shove so he stumbled into the wall, cracking his head on the doorframe as he went. 

All Jim registered, when Sebastian turned to him again, was that blood was dripping down his face (Jim wasn’t sure exactly where from), that his blue eyes were enraged, and that a fist was flying towards his face…

The moment of contact seemed to happen in slow motion. Jim’s cheek went numb with the impact, and then felt as though it was on fire. His head whipped to one side with the force of the blow. 

He brought a hand up to feel the damage, surprised by this turn of events. Well, no bones were broken, his skin was intact, and his teeth remained in place. Sebastian had avoided his nose also, striking him ‘safely’ in the cheek, where he couldn’t do any real damage. Still, this was new…

Sebastian stood opposite him, panting. He’d stopped his assault. He looked both triumphant and devastated by the daring of his action. 

In the stillness, the silence broken only by Sebastian’s heavy breathing, Jim blinked at his sniper. 

And then he charged. 

He tackled Sebastian to the ground. Strength wasn’t on his side, but timing and speed was. He wasn’t the weak child he’d once been. In his years alone he’d been forced to learn how to defend himself. Brute force was something he’d never possess, but there were ways to match such a challenge, and he knew them all.

Sebastian hit the ground with a thump, and suddenly Jim was on top of him. He wasted no time. He scratched at Sebastian’s face, leaving red marks down his cheeks, and bit the hand that came up to attempt to force him away. He tasted blood, then, Sebastian’s, which meant he’d broken the skin. 

As Sebastian tried to force his writhing boss off him, Jim grabbed at Sebastian’s hair with both hands, and pulled as hard as he could. A clump of dishwater blond hair was torn painfully from his scalp, and Jim cackled with perverse triumph as he brandished his prize in front of Sebastian’s watering eyes. 

“Fuck you,” Sebastian kept growling as he attempted to fend off Jim’s underhand attacks. “Fuck you, Jim! Bastard! You shit!”

Jim could have stopped the whirlwind of pain, but his cheek was swollen now, and it was going to bruise. His tongue was sore too, where he’d bitten it when Sebastian’s fist made contact with his face. He could taste both of their blood in his mouth, mingled and metallic.

He spat it into Sebastian’s face again, but this time Sebastian was ready. He rolled the pair of them over and pinned Jim to the ground, easily using his body weight to keep Jim’s legs from kicking and his hands from pinching and scratching.

In all honesty, Sebastian could have defended himself far better. He could have broken Jim’s neck, could have knocked him unconscious, but Jim had the advantage and he knew it. Because Sebastian didn’t want to wound Jim too seriously. He couldn’t. Unlike Jim, who fought dirty, fought to maim, and fought to win.

“You pathetic, worthless idiot, Moran!” Jim hissed as he wriggled beneath Sebastian, attempting to free himself in vain. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” 

Sebastian tried to pin Jim’s arms above his head to prevent him from causing any more damage, but Jim managed to scrabble one arm out of the hold and lashed out to slap Sebastian in the face.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Sebastian demanded, recapturing Jim’s right hand.

“You struck me, Moran! Do you know what that means?!” 

“No,” Sebastian grunted, fending off another attempted kick. 

“Death! A painful one! Flaying! Burning!” 

Sebastian laughed darkly, flashing his teeth. Because he knew this was the pantomime villain talking. This was front, pure and simple. Flaying and burning. It was mental. Fucking insane. And Jim didn’t mean it. He couldn’t. 

“Do your fucking worst,” he spat right back at his boss.

“Don’t tempt me!” Jim screamed. 

“Tempt you? Thought it was a rule? Or am I your exception?” 

Realising that his attempts to free himself were useless now, Jim tried a new tactic. Knowing that he could no longer hurt Sebastian physically like this, and that the mental insults were simply bouncing off him, he had only one option remaining to him. 

It was one he’d resorted to a couple of times before. Harming himself.

He began to smack his own head against the bedroom carpet, until he could see lights dancing in front of his eyes. If he could just manage to knock himself unconscious then he’d still have won, wouldn’t he?

As expected, Sebastian grabbed his head, trying to stop his boss from knocking himself out. Jim noticed that Sebastian’s hands were gentle on his skull.

With arms freed, Jim chopped Sebastian on either side of his neck, leaving him coughing and spluttering for breath. But he still couldn’t shift his weight. He was too heavy, too determined to keep him there.

“Nice fucking try,” Sebastian grunted, cupping Jim’s head with his hands and awkwardly keeping his arms down with his elbows.

“Nice try? Oh, Moran, I haven’t even started. Just you wait and see. You can’t keep me here forever, and when you let me go, I’ll have you slaughtered.” 

“Slaughtered by fucking who? I thought I did your fucking ‘slaughtering’?” 

“I have other slaughterers!” Jim shrieked. The tendons in his neck bulged out in his fury, and his eyes were wild and fierce. 

“I’ve been fucking killing our own fucking people because I thought you’d been taken!” Sebastian shouted back, right into Jim’s face. “Mills and Dawson! Two fucking down!” 

Jim made to bite Sebastian’s fingers, turning his head from side to side frantically, but Sebastian moved them at the last second.

“We could have lost our best men!” Sebastian shouted again. “Are you fucking crazy?!” 

“It was a test!” 

“You staged your own fucking abduction, you nutcase! I thought you were being tortured! You fucking cunt!” 

“You joined the army!” Jim screamed back childishly, just as loudly as Sebastian’s own shout, but higher pitched, more painful to listen to. “You left me, you moron! You selfish, idiotic, ordinary, useless, doofus!” 

And suddenly he was no longer The Boss. He was Jim. Just Jim. The Jim Sebastian knew inside out all over again. That stroppy eight year old, the traumatised eleven year old, the sixteen year old that used to scream insults at him just for the fun of it so they could make it up with a shag later.

He was the boy Sebastian had been forced to physically restrain at the side of the road on the day Jim had walked right into the path of oncoming traffic for a thrill. 

He was still in there. He was. He might be some big criminal boss now. He might be cruel. He might have given up on love entirely. 

But he was still Jim. Jim Moriarty. Jim Moriarty, the little boy that talked like a pixie and didn’t like to wear socks and danced around the bedroom and demanded cuddles when he was feeling sad but didn’t want to show it.

He was the little boy neglected by his parents, who was left hungry in Dublin, who was bullied by the bigger children, who thought nobody loved him because he was ‘evil’ and ‘wrong’ and ‘mad’, when really he was just some poor kid that needed someone to take care of him.

Sebastian’s expression seemed to soften. He stopped frowning. His snarl melted away into confusion and concern and guilt.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that,” Jim breathed, eyes scared for the first time as he observed the man on top of him. This wasn’t supposed to have happened. Sebastian wasn’t supposed to feel mercy now. He wasn’t supposed to give in and forgive him… 

Sebastian swallowed. 

“You’re a pathetic waste of oxygen,” Jim insisted. “I could kill you like that. Like THAT.” 

“Jim…” 

The way Sebastian said his name scared Jim even more than his expression. It was too tender, too familiar, too pitying…

“You’re not worthy! You’re not worthy of me!” Jim screamed. 

“I know.” 

“I hate you. I HATE YOU!” 

“I know you do, boss. I know.”

Jim was desperate now. He looked like a child. His eyes were wide with thinly veiled horror at what was happening. He was losing. He was losing, even though Sebastian was agreeing with him… 

“You’re a snivelling idiot. You’re weak. You’re a liar!” 

“Fuck off, Jim. I never-“ 

And there it was, another fraying thread to pull on. A lifeline. It might stop the affection. Jim had to cling to it, didn’t he? He couldn’t just give up. He had to unravel Sebastian, to leave him bare and broken and ruined. He had to be punished for his insolence…

“At night,” Jim panted quickly, too quickly. “At night, you turn into a petrified little boy that needs me to protect him from his nasty Father in his nightmares. You disgust me. You. Disgust. Me.” 

Sebastian tried his best not to be torn apart by those words. But he was, all the same. After all, it was what the Jim in his nightmares always said. That he was a disappointment. Disgusting. Weak. Unworthy.

“Yeah, sure,” Sebastian forced himself to say, sniffing. “I disgust you so much you get me to sleep in your room with you every night. Makes sense, that.” 

“It’s my apartment.” 

It was a weak argument, and Jim knew it. 

“I haven’t slept in my own bedroom for ages. I sleep with you. By your side. Every fucking night.”

“Moran!” 

“You ask me to do that, boss. That’s your choice. You decide to have me sleep in your bed with you. You’re the one that shifts over to me in the night. It’s not the other way around.”

“I’m warning you, Moran! If you so much as-“ 

“So much as what? Shine a light on the goddamn fucking obvious? Why? Truth hurt, does it, boss? You think you’re getting too ordinary? Love not fit the picture for a ‘big bad villain’?” 

Jim slapped him once again. Over and over and over until his arms went limp and Sebastian eventually stopped him by taking hold of his wrists, and lightly holding them together.

Sebastian looked down at the man beneath him. Jim was furious, petrified. He looked like he wanted to kill him. 

But he looked like he wanted to be held, too. It was his eyes. They betrayed the rest of his face.

“It was a test,” Jim insisted, trying to force dignity into his voice despite his position. “You needed to be able to deal with a situation in which I was in danger. I needed to make sure you could handle it.” 

“A test? It was fucking revenge and you know it.” 

“It was both,” Jim admitted. “Maybe I wanted you scared? Hm? Maybe you deserved it?!”

“You fucking piece of shit, boss,” Sebastian muttered, although his anger seemed to have evaporated. 

“You punched me.” 

Sebastian swallowed and didn’t respond. 

“What do you do to torture someone the most effectively? Hm? What did I teach you? Answer me that, Moran.” 

Sebastian took a breath and felt his stomach lurch. 

“Threaten what they love.” 

“Pressure points,” Jim agreed. “Therefore, I had to do it.” 

“You’ve fucking lost it…” 

“You punched me because you were the most scared you’ve ever been in your life. You couldn’t understand it, could you? Those feelings. I almost broke you this time. Almooooost.” 

“You’ve got no fucking idea-“ 

“I know you, Moran,” Jim cut in harshly. “What I did to you earlier. That was torture. The best and most effective torture I could create for you. And it worked like a charm, too.” 

“What the hell did you gain from it?” 

“I made you hurt. The way you hurt me.” 

Those words rang heavily in the air around the two men. Sebastian seemed to come to his senses. Ignoring the blood dribbling down his face, and the way his body seared with pain, he let Jim go. He sat back, released his arms, and allowed Jim’s legs to kick free of his hold.

Jim got to his feet shakily and fixed his suit, brushing it down, trying to recover his dignity.

Sebastian, however, remained crouched on the carpet. Jim could almost smell the shame radiating from his body.

“Do you know what you did today? Well, yesterday, actually. Seeing as we’ve passed midnight,” Jim asked, his voice full of his usual confidence now he was no longer physically vulnerable.

Moran’s head remained bowed. He was in disgrace. It was why, Jim suspected, he didn’t raise himself to his feet, to his full height. He wished to remain at Jim’s feet.

“Of course I fucking do.” 

“You could have taken it all,” Jim whispered. He glanced around Sebastian’s darkened bedroom and started tutting, feigning disappointment. “It could have been yours, but you lack the gumption.” 

It took a moment for Sebastian to understand what Jim was getting at. 

“The business?” he asked, raising his head and gawping at Jim like he was insane. “I don’t fucking want the business!” 

“Then you’re a fool.” 

“Jim, for fuck’s sake-“ 

“Anybody else would have jumped at the chance. Anyone with ambition should have…” 

“I don’t have ambition.” 

“Oh, but you do.” 

“You just said I didn’t-“ 

“Your ambition has /nothing/ to do with business or money or material gain. You walked into that room with explosives on your person. You could have been shot. I heard you talking to him, Moran. I heard,” Jim hissed, eyes narrowed. “You were gambling your own life in the hope of getting me back unharmed. You’re WEAK.” 

“You ever heard of loyalty?” he asked lowly.

“Heard of it?” Jim mocked him ruthlessly. “I grew up with the walking, talking, personification of loyalty, Moran. I’m sick of it.” 

“I love you,” Sebastian said simply, sniffing and wiping the blood away from his nose with his sleeve. 

Jim merely blinked at him. 

“I love you,” Sebastian repeated. “Always have done. I fucking love you.” 

Jim licked his lips. 

“I never want to hear you say that again,” Jim warned him quietly. 

“You need to hear it. How long am I going to keep paying for what I did when I was a stupid kid? Eh? I was eighteen, Jim. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was helping you-” 

“You were wrong!” Jim screamed, throwing his arms out to his sides. “You. Got. It. Wrong!” 

“I love you! I fucking love you! I love you more than life! I love you so much, you stupid, stupid, stubborn prick!” 

“Sebastian!” Jim screeched, scandalised by the honesty on show, the frank affection. It was too much for him. It made him want to run, to vomit, to get away from it all.

“I love you more than all of this. All of it. I’d give it up for you. Do anything for you. You know I would. You fucking know it, Jim.” 

Sebastian was panting with effort, chest heaving with emotion. And he was still kneeling on the bedroom floor, like a man at the altar of his God. He looked pathetic, Jim thought. He looked weak. He looked tired and wounded and ashamed of himself.

He looked beautiful.

“Tell me what you want done and I’ll do it,” Sebastian breathed out, eyes closed with desperation. Jim imagined that had he offered his hand, Sebastian would have kissed it and held it to him. Like a subject. A peasant being blessed by a king.

Jim licked his lips again and made a decision. The only one that came to mind.

“Shoot yourself.” 

Sebastian only hesitated for a second. He shifted so he could pull his gun from its holster, and then resumed his position, on his knees, obedient.

Jim’s eyes darted to the gun slightly nervously, but he didn’t retract his order. He stood still, firm, stubborn. After all, Moriarty never went back on his word. He showed no mercy or weakness.

“I’ll count down for you, boss,” Sebastian said lowly, his voice gruff and void of emotion.

Still, Jim didn’t speak. He found he couldn’t. 

“Five.” 

Sebastian raised the gun to his head, holding it in his right hand, pressing the barrel against his right temple. 

“Four.” 

He flicked off the safety. Jim felt his stomach lurch. 

“Three.” 

Sebastian’s calloused finger found the trigger. He rested it gently against the metal. The tenderness shocked Jim. It reminded him of the tender touches he’d been gifted from Sebastian throughout the years, all unexpected. Such delicacy was so at odds with Sebastian’s appearance after all. Nobody could have expected a man like Colonel Moran to be capable of kindness.

“Two.” 

The sniper looked up at Jim, blue eyes meeting brown. He wasn’t pleading for his life, even in expression. That was perhaps the worst part. He looked accepting of his fate, resigned to it. He was determined not to falter in his purpose. He didn’t want to disobey an order and fail Jim, even now.

And then his eyelids fluttered closed, with one final desperate glance at Jim.

“One-“ 

Jim lunged forward, shrieking a word he hadn’t planned: ‘’Bastian!’

He knocked the gun out of Sebastian’s hand just as Sebastian pressed on the trigger. 

The bullet soared through the air, missing Sebastian’s head by a mere inch, and fired through Sebastian’s bedroom wall with an almighty bang.

Sebastian opened his eyes and swore, clicking on the safety. 

Jim stood frozen on the spot, panting, heart pounding up in his ears. 

There was a new bullet-hole in the wall now, and plaster dust wafted into the room from the point of impact. One of Sebastian’s books had toppled off the shelf, too. Macbeth.

“P-put the gun down, Moran,” Jim commanded quietly, voice wavering with nerves. His skin felt cold. His stomach twisted with unease.

Sebastian did as he was told. He placed the gun on the bedroom floor, facing away from Jim, and kept his head bowed.

Jim took a step toward Sebastian and raised him to his feet with a gentle touch under his chin. To Jim’s surprise, he found his own pale hands were shaking. His entire body was trembling. But Sebastian was still and obedient. Calm. Warm. Standing to his full height, but unthreatening now.

“Jim, it’s alright…” Sebastian soothed him. 

His boss blinked up at him, like he was seeing him for the first time. He looked confused and nauseous, uncertain and fearful. 

“It’s okay, boss,” Sebastian said quietly. “It’s okay.” 

Jim stood on his tiptoes draped his arms around Sebastian’s neck. He pressed their foreheads together and took deep breaths to attempt to stop himself from shaking.

“I’m okay, yeah? I’m fine. We’re both fine. You’re safe, alright? I’ve got you.” 

Jim didn’t speak. He found he couldn’t. His body was trembling all over. It was the shock. It had to be. 

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Jim’s body, holding him close, stroking his back and then just pressing his large palms against his body, reassuring him he was there, trying to warm him.

They stood in almost total silence. The only noises were Jim’s chattering teeth, and both of their breathing. 

“We’re alright,” Sebastian said quietly, pressing their noses together like a big cat. “It’s all over, boss. We can forget it all. No harm done. It’s okay. Promise, Jim. We’re alright.” 

“Stop talking,” Jim commanded, voice breaking in the middle. “Just… stop.” 

Sebastian stopped, but he held Jim tighter, his arms wrapping around him even more closely, keeping him secure, trying to stop the trembling.

“Tell me you hate me,” Jim whispered. 

“Can’t.” 

“Please. Tell me you hate me, Sebastian.” 

Sebastian paused. He paused because Jim’s voice had wavered again, and now he was crying.

“Love you,” Sebastian breathed out. 

“I want you to hate me. Hate me. Please, Sebby. Please.” 

Sebastian pressed a kiss to Jim’s forehead. 

“Can’t, Jim.” 

“You have to.” 

“Never.” 

Sebastian took a slight step back and brought a hand up to examine Jim’s face. He caressed the swollen part of his cheek, feeling tears on the pad of his thumb as he did so. Jim withdrew his arms from Sebastian’s neck.

“I should never have hit you, boss. Won’t happen again,” Sebastian said quietly, wiping away the other tears softly.

“What about your nose? I hit you too. You’re still bleeding,” Jim said thickly, trying to disguise his tears, even now.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Sebastian insisted, sniffing. “Had far worse. Should clear up in no time.” 

Jim swallowed. 

“Stay here,” he commanded, stepping away from Sebastian and dusting himself down. He didn’t leave the room. Instead, he went to Sebastian’s bedside drawer and began to root through it. He flicked on the lamp beside Seb’s bed and found what he was looking for. 

“Here,” he muttered, returning. He pressed something into Sebastian’s palm and stood back expectantly, waiting. 

Sebastian lifted the card up to the light and read the now familiar words printed on it: 

‘I, Jim Moriarty, owe the owner of this card, Sebastian Augustus Moran, one kiss at a time of his choosing, as a gift for his fifteenth birthday. Card is valid until my death.’  


Jim had put it in Sebastian’s drawer a few weeks back, but Seb hadn’t even considered using it. He thought it was just a bit of memorabilia from the old days. A gift from Jim, something he could keep to remind him of their shared past.

“I think it’s about time, don’t you?” Jim said quietly. 

Sebastian’s lips parted with surprise. 

“You mean it?” 

“Obviously I mean it. I gave you the card, didn’t I?” 

Sebastian read the words a few more times, muttering them. He glanced back up at Jim, then down at the text. And then shook his head.

“I can’t take just the one, boss. I can’t.”

“And why not?” Jim demanded, trying to sound irritated instead of wounded.

Sebastian wiped his nose yet again. 

“Because I’ll want more after. I can’t deal with it just being a game or a gimmick or something. So cheers, but no. You’d better have it back.” 

He handed the card over, expression grave and pained. 

Jim plucked it from his fingers, sighed, and then tore it up into four pieces, leaving them to scatter on Sebastian’s bedroom floor. 

“Well, that’s the end of that,” Jim said firmly, his usual voice returned to him, the waver in his tone gone. “All gone now.”

Sebastian hung his head as Jim turned and began to walk out of the room. 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and swallowed hard, trying to forget what Jim had felt like clutched in his arms, forehead to forehead, sharing breath. He told himself he’d made the right decision, that he’d been wise, spared himself pain. 

But it was hard not to feel like an idiot that had just lost his only chance at one final moment of happiness.

A theatrical cough forced him to open his eyes again. Jim was standing back in front of him, grinning, one eyebrow raised. He had his hands held coyly behind his back, and was wearing his best playful smirk. 

“Of course, the card was only ever a card,” Jim drawled. 

“Jim?” 

“And I’m your employer. Your boss. Your master. Correct?” 

“Yeah, boss.” 

“So if I should decide I want something, I ought to get it, don’t you think?” 

Sebastian nodded, frowning with confusion. 

“Yeah, ‘course. Anything.” 

Jim smirked again. 

“Well, then…” he declared, stepping up to Sebastian and grabbing him by his suit jacket. He stood on his tiptoes and pressed their lips together with possessive hunger, letting his fingers fist in the fabric of Seb’s shirt. 

Sebastian’s hands went instantly to Jim’s hips, then wrapped around his back, rubbing his palms up and down everywhere he could reach, protective, faithful.

Jim kissed Sebastian fiercely, nipping at his lips, demanding entrance to his mouth with his tongue, commanding him wordlessly to follow his lead. Sebastian obeyed desperately, groaning into the kiss, trying to fill his senses with as much of Jim as possible. The feel of his lips, the scent of his hair, the taste of his tongue, the heat of his breath. The frantic feel of his body as it pressed against him.

“Tell me you hate me,” Jim breathed out between kisses, as he shoved Sebastian backwards, forcing him to fall back on his bed. His sniper obediently lay on his back as Jim unbuttoned his suit jacket, placed it down beside them, and then crawled on top of him. 

Sebastian’s hands returned to Jim’s back instantly. They brushed the nape of his neck, ran through his hair, smoothed over his arse and the tops of his thighs.

“Never,” Sebastian grunted, helping to rid Jim of his white Westwood shirt with the rounded collar while Jim took off his tie and threw it down on the bedroom floor. 

“Tell me how much you despise me, Moran,” Jim demanded, yanking Sebastian’s own tie over his head, and then kissing him hard, pulling his hair roughly and scratching behind his ears. 

“Love you,” Sebastian insisted as he tore off his shirt. Jim helped him discard the ruined item, and for once, didn’t complain about the state of the designer clothing. 

Sebastian sat up, and Jim perched in his lap, straddling him, running his pale hands over Sebastian’s torso, feeling for his scar tissue and his muscles and letting his fingertips graze over his nipples, one of which was ruined by a wound, distorted, although still held some sensation. 

As Jim went for Sebastian’s belt and fiddled with the buckle, Sebastian leaned forward and sucked on Jim’s collarbone, kissing beneath his jaw tenderly, leaning up to press his lips behind Jim’s ear. 

“I’m going to make you hate me,” Jim sang, throwing his head back with bliss as Sebastian worked on his neck. He chuckled and yanked on Sebastian’s belt, finally parting it from his trousers and discarding it along with all the other unnecessary clothing. 

“Never, boss,” Sebastian mumbled defiantly against his pale skin, dipping his head to bite softly at Jim’s left nipple. 

“You’re going to want me dead, sweetheart,” Jim breathed out, scratching up and down Sebastian’s back, feeling for the familiar scars, and for the new ones too, the ones from Afghanistan and later on. 

“Nah,” Seb muttered back. “Not gonna happen. Not in a million… Christ…” 

Jim wrapped his thin, pale fingers around Sebastian’s neck lightly, and forced his sniper to look up at him. His blue eyes were blown with want, his lips were parted with desperation. Jim could feel his cock was hard beneath his trousers, pressing up against his arse. 

“You like that, hm?” 

“Yeah, boss…” 

Jim leaned in to bite Sebastian’s lower lip, upping the pressure until he drew blood. He then lapped it up again, almost tenderly. 

“I can’t love you, Sebastian,” Jim sighed, pecking Sebastian on the nose and then squeezing his neck more tightly, so Sebastian’s face began to turn red with a lack of oxygen. “Not officially…” 

“Know that… boss… know… that…”

Jim released Sebastian’s neck a mere moment before Sebastian passed out. His sniper’s head fell forward, but he managed to stay mostly upright. His chest heaved as he sucked in precious air. His hands grabbed for Jim as he panted, clutching at him desperately. 

“Are you mine?” Jim demanded, shifting back and reaching his hands down into Sebastian’s trousers. 

“All yours.” 

“For how long?” 

“’Till I die, boss. Uh… boss… fuck…” 

Jim kissed Sebastian again, hard. His hands were busy, but Sebastian used his own to cup Jim’s cheeks. 

“And if I go, what do you do?” 

“Kill myself,” Sebastian panted out, trying to kiss Jim, who was toying with him, licking Sebastian’s lips then drawing back again with a smirk.

“Unless?” Jim sang. 

“Unless the bastard who did it’s still breathing,” Sebastian managed to say, although his tone was labored now. 

Jim laughed and nodded. 

“Oh, good boy,” he praised him, bringing one of his hands up now and pressing his thumb against Sebastian’s lips. 

Obediently, Sebastian darted out his tongue and licked at it. When Jim smiled, Seb sucked it into his mouth and kept his eyes on Jim. He bit the pad of Jim’s thumb just as things were getting too sweet, making Jim giggle with pure delight. He sounded both childish and delightfully devious at once.

“And if he’s still breathing?” 

“Fix the problem,” Sebastian groaned, trying to get at Jim’s lips again. “End ‘em. For you, boss. Always. Always for you…” 

Jim paused the motion of his left hand, and pulled it out of Sebastian’s trousers. He raised it to Sebastian’s face, along with his right, and cupped his cheeks, suddenly serious, almost affectionate. He looked right into Sebastian’s eyes, and knew, instantly, that he had Sebastian’s complete and utter attention. He had the obedience of the man’s body, mind, and soul. 

“And when you’ve eliminated our little problem?” 

“I die,” Sebastian said easily, pressing his forehead against Jim’s. “You and me together.” 

Jim nodded his head approvingly and kissed Sebastian’s lips chastely, like a promise. 

“I’ll be waiting for you, Tiger. Maybe I might even love you in the next life, hm?” 

With that, Jim kissed Sebastian hard, and pushed him back down on the bed, moaning his name, wrapping his arms around him, rocking against his body, and trying to lose himself completely in the love of his life.

“Love you, Jim,” Sebastian groaned out. “So fucking much. Need you…” 

“I know, darling. I know,” Jim sighed back, pulling off Sebastian’s trousers. 

When his own trousers were discarded as well, Jim paused, on top of Sebastian, staring down at him. 

“What is it?” Seb asked, kissing Jim’s neck again, nuzzling his nose against it.

Jim swallowed and said nothing. Instead of explaining, he climbed off Sebastian and lay on his back beside him, humming impatiently. 

“Boss?” Sebastian breathed out, leaning up on one arm and looking concerned. 

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, ‘Bastian,” Jim sighed, rolling his eyes. “Are you going to fuck me, or are you not?” 

“You want me to…?” 

Jim grabbed Sebastian and pulled him on top of him. 

“You’re not eighteen. I’m not sixteen. I’m not made of glass. We’ve both killed people. So stop acting like we haven’t done this before and get to it.” 

Sebastian grinned, flashing his teeth. 

“That an order, boss?” 

Jim raised his eyebrows, and then smirked back, eyes playful and mischievous. 

“Oh, absolutely, Colonel. We’re picking up where we left off. Starting with you fucking me until I scream. Is that understood?” 

“Understood, boss.”

“And ‘Bastian?” 

Sebastian lifted his head from where he’d been kissing Jim’s neck again. 

“Doubt truth to be a liar.” 

Jim didn’t think he’d ever seen Sebastian smile so broadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doubt thou the stars are fire;  
> Doubt that the sun doth move;  
> Doubt truth to be a liar;  
> But never doubt I love.
> 
> \- Hamlet, Act 2 Scene 2, William Shakespeare.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I do not own Jim Moriarty or Sebastian Moran. Unfortunately.


End file.
